Chapter Thirteen
One week later, I’m all decked out in my black and white, wearing jeans and a White Sox shirt, sweatshirt tied around my waist. The only thing I’m leaving behind is my hat. Since this is an office thing, I don’t want to appear too grungy.
A knock lands on my door at the exact time Dean said he’d be here. As usual, my stomach erupts into its own little firework show inside. It’s been a common occurrence every time he texts me. He’s tried to call, but I’m not ready just yet.
I open the door.
“Oh, excuse me, I have to go throw up.” I pretend to choke, taking in his head to toe blue and red ensemble.
“Damn, even in White Sox crap you look hot.” He steps in.
“Please come in,” I say sarcastically, and he shrugs. “Why is it you never have to press the buzzer?”
There’s a bu
