The trouble was, as soon as she had the shirt on, he pretty much just wanted to take it off her again, which, all things considered, was unproductive and she'd come over to be out of the rain and he was still dealing with the whole Marissa thing, so it was probably pretty inappropriate, too, but some things really just couldn't be helped, among them, his train of thought, which was hurtling pretty quickly over the side of a cliff into some interminable abyss of - he was past coming up with a decent metaphor, but it was something, something potentially problematic. Or not problematic. He didn't really know.
Possibly having her stay had been a mistake. He'd always intended to follow her lead, but sometimes something was a signal and sometimes it was just changing out of a wet shirt, and hell if he knew the difference. "No problem," he said, breathing in and slowly out. "It's a good look for you." He wouldn't have minded her walking around in his shirts more often.
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Possibly having her stay had been a mistake. He'd always intended to follow her lead, but sometimes something was a signal and sometimes it was just changing out of a wet shirt, and hell if he knew the difference. "No problem," he said, breathing in and slowly out. "It's a good look for you." He wouldn't have minded her walking around in his shirts more often.