“I am, but right now, I’m going to be extra honest,” he says, and I snicker but don’t comment. “I feel like I didn’t get to appreciate you in the dress long enough. It’s not fair that you got to be around so many people and they had the chance to see you in it all night, to sit next to you. It’s not fair and I’m not sorry when I say I’m going to be selfish because I want my time now with you while you’re wearing this dress.”
My smile slips, heart racing. The heavy thud feels like it’s at my ear, drowning out all other sounds.
Thank God it’s dark out or he’d see how fiercely my face is burning. I don’t know what I thought he was going to say but it wasn’t that.
I expel a shuddering breath, hating what I’m about to admit. “We really can’t go in there. This dress isn’t mine. I have to return it first thing tomorrow morning. But we can take a picture and?—”
“How much was it?”
“No, don’t do that.” I shake my head.
“No,youdon’t do that.” He inches a little closer to me. “We’re already here, I’m hungry, and you are too.” I’m starving. I didn’t eat much before, and at the auction, they only served finger foods. “And I should be paying for your dress. After all, you went out of your way to do me a favor. So, this and anything else that you paid for is on me. Add in the fact I lied to my parents, it’s the least I can do. I’m sorry I didn’t consider it first.”
Sylas genuinely sounds apologetic, but the stubborn part of my brain is urging me to refuse. However, my pride diminishes at his next words.
“I’m not trying to be that person, but you know I have more than enough money. If that still doesn’t sit right with you, justremember I used you the other night and today. Now you have to use me back. And please do. I really want you to use me.” He’s closer than before, and our breath clouds together, becoming one, before mine dwindles as he raises his hand to my cold cheek. Like the other night, he pushes a strand of hair away from my face, placing it back with the rest. “I’m okay with being used by you, but if you don’t like the wordused, we can just call it one friend helping another.”
We’re friends now?It’s at the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask. Things could change tomorrow; he could act like he doesn’t know me, or he could surprise me and prove that I misjudged him. Even though I shouldn’t, I’m hoping for the latter. Either way, I let it be and accept what he’s willing to give me. I’d be stupid to turn all of this down.
“No, I likeusedbetter. It’s only fair.” It’s really not the same thing, but then again, it sort of is? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to think about us using each other because Idefinitelydon’t want him to use me again. But will I be thinking about it? Yeah…
He notes my shudder and places his hand on the small of my back, escorting me inside.
“It is, isn’t it?” His dimples dent his cheeks as he holds the door open for me.
Inside, warmth quickly envelops me, and I stop shivering almost immediately. We get glanced at, but it’s quick and fleeting. Everyone is in their own world, drinking, playing pool or darts, dancing, singing karaoke, or using the pinball or claw machines.
Sylas guides me fluidly through the crowd, hand still firmly planted at my back. Every so often, I feel him stroke me, his touch hovering above my butt. I don’t mean to, but I hold my breath when it happens because, embarrassingly, I’m hoping he touches me.
I shift my focus away from his hand to our surroundings in hopes it’ll distract me. Different-colored Christmas lights hang from the ceilings, along with signed picture frames of bands, license plates from different states, vinyl cases, and in a corner, a large disco ball. On the walls, there’s more pictures of musicians, different sports jerseys from King’s Yard, and a few scattered Christmas decorations. The chairs and tables are all mismatched and look like they were picked up off the side of the road.
It’s chaotic, bright, and right up my alley.
We walk farther until we find a red high-top table, nestled in the corner right underneath the disco ball. The table and chairs sparkle from the lights reflecting off the mirrors on the ball.
I don’t need it, but Sylas helps me onto the chair, and when I fold one leg over the other, his gaze drops to the slit as it widens. He sucks his lip between his teeth, smothering a chuckle as he sits and scoots his chair closer to mine.
I make no comment because I know he’s just as hyperaware as I am about the sexual tension choking us. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want him, but one time was enough. I don’t want to get carried away and somehow find myself getting attached because strangely enough, I can see it happening.
And I’m going to go out on a limb and assume he’s being this friendly because I lied to his parents. I knew something was off the moment they showed up and his demeanor changed.
I did the only thing I could think of: lie. I don’t know how much they believed us, but I think I did okay, and I hope he’s feeling better. He seems like it, considering he’s been more talkative and his usual arrogant self.
He gives me a rundown of the menu, and when I tell him what I want to eat and drink, he leaves. While he’s gone, I take my jacket off, but despite Sylas being gone for a while, I can’t seem to cool down.
It doesn’t help that as he retakes his seat, I see he’s pulled off his bow tie. The first two buttons are undone on his shirt, and it looks like he ran his fingers through his hair. It’s disheveled but in a good way. On top of all of that, he smells amazing.
He hands me my bottle of beer and clinks the neck with his. “Cheers to being used.”
“Cheers.” I laugh and take a swig.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. How much was it and how much did you pay for your Lyft?” He rests his arm along the back of my chair, the tips of his finger gently brushing against my skin.
For a couple offriends, we’re huddled mighty close to each other. I should push him away, but I welcome his touch, ignoring the protest in my head. My brain is screaming to back away, to stop whatever it is I’m doing, but my body revels in how it feels to be wrapped in him. I also can’t stop staring at how his pants strain against his thick thighs and his button-down clings to his stomach, faintly outlining his abs.
Technically, we’re fake dating, so I’m not doing anything wrong.
When I tell him the price, he fishes out his phone from his pocket and goes to his banking app. I look away because while I’m curious about his finances, I’d rather not know and get jealous. So what? Sue me.
