Sylas quietly chuckles, and I wonder if he understood me.
We once again find ourselves on the terrace. I expect to be blasted with frosty Manhattan air, wait for the inevitable lingering smell of acrid stale tobacco, but neither happens. I search for the ashtrays and butts that are usually scattered about, but I don’t see them either.
It’s surprisingly warm and while I catch the faintest whiff of tobacco, there’s an overpowering smell of cedar and something expensive. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s enticing.
“I want to make you a proposition,” he begins, jaw flexing harder as he tucks his hands in his pockets, but not before I notice the tremors.
“Are you okay?” I eye him, skeptical and a little concerned.
“Yeah, why?” He chews faster.
“You look like you’re about to have a heart attack or something,” I joke, but he looks visibly uncomfortable, so I tone it down. “No, really, are you okay?”
He flashes me a grin that manifests into a smug smirk. “Cute. You’re worried about me.”
This is what I get for showing concern. “No, calling 9-1-1 would be a nightmare and I have another job to be at. I’m not trying to be here all day.”
“And here I thought you cared.” He pops a bubble and for some odd reason unbeknownst to me, it’s kind of…hot.
My headache is now at a two, and surprisingly, I feel calmer despite the conversation with my mother. “Seriously, are you okay?”
He ruffles a hand through his mussed hair, the tremor slight but not as bad as when I first noticed it. “Yeah, just trying out a new thing. Hadn’t realized how hard going cold turkey would be. It’s a bitch, I’ll tell you that.”
He’s not insinuating what I think he is…Is he? “You stopped smoking?”
Sylas shrugs. “A bratty smartass said it wasn’t good for my health, so I’m trying gum. Seeing what all the rave is about.”
I don’t mean to, but I can’t stop my lips from lifting upward. “She’s not bratty, she’s smart as fuck.”
“Let me guess? Graduated top ten in your class or something?”
“Number one,” I correct proudly.
“Valedictorian twins.”
“You graduated top of your class? Did Daddy pay for that too?” Okay, that was a bitchy thing to say, but after knowing his dad paid for him to pass our communications class, I can’t help but wonder.
He laughs, full and deep. “Sadly, no, daddy dearest didn’t pay my way to becoming valedictorian in high school. Freshman year of college, on the other hand, he was feeling rather…guilty.” His pale green eyes harden, face grim and taut as if he were remembering something, but then he does a one-eighty and his smile and posture become lax. “I happen to be very smart.”
While I’m tempted to ask what that was, I don’t.
“Right, it really shows,” I drawl, to which he chuckles. “So, gum…”
I didn’t anticipate for my words to hold any weight. I had expected him to blow me off.
“It’s all the rave.” He’s between serious and sarcastic, I can’t tell which, but I smile either way. “Right, then. Proposition. I want to make one.”
I narrow my eyes. “With me?”
“Yeah, I’ll get straight to the point. There’s an auction on Friday I have to be part of. If you have nothing to do, I’d like for you to attend. I’ll give you the money to bid on me and that’s all you’ll have to do.Whenyou win, we’ll part ways and you’ll never have to worry about me bothering you again.”
I blink, feeling both amused and perplexed. I know about these auctions and how much money goes into them. Never been to one as I’m too broke to attend one.
“Me? Why?”
“Because you don’t give a fuck about who I am.”
“And because I won’t expect a date?”
