Chloe
"You think you’re so funny, don’t you? Teasing me like this?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I’m in your head, gorgeous. I know what you’re thinking."
Walking backwards, I keep my eyes trained on him as I shed my zip-up hooded sweatshirt. I look like a complete ragamuffin. How he finds me attractive when I’m not wearing a lick of makeup, my clothes look like I slept in them, because I totally did, and my hair is sticking up in a thousand different directions is beyond me, and his eyes flare when he notices the tiny tank top I’m wearing underneath. It was chilly enough at the pumpkin patch that I never needed to remove my jacket, thank goodness.
My yoga pants have slight flare at the bottom, but they hug my ass, molding it and somehow lifting it high. Throughout our time this afternoon I saw him not-so discreetly checking it out on several occasions, which made me grateful I kept them on like he suggested.