Maybe the alcohol is getting to him more than he wants to let on.
You can still hardly believe it. He won!
You actually get to spend the night alone with him on a superyacht!?
“Come on!” Corrine calls from a few feet away as she sets her snack plate down on an empty little table. She strips off her shirt to reveal a red bikini beneath. “You’re gonna swim with me, right? The pool’s waiting!”
You glance back at Ziros, torn between wanting to make sure he’s okay and not wanting to disappoint your friend.
Before you can choose either, Jeeves the butler—if that’s actually his name—appears.
“One moment,” he says, holding out his business card politely with both white-gloved hands. “Please, take this. I will arrange your stay on the yacht.”
Wow. It still feels surreal.
And also suddenly real.
“We did it!” You exclaim as soon as he leaves, holding out the card for Ziros. “Well,youdid it! I’m so excited—I can’t believe it!”
Ziros just leans back against the table, hands behind his head like he never had a doubt in the world.
“You ought to have more faith in me,human,” he says with a grin, and his gaze lingers on your little gold bikini as he looks at you.
Or, more accurately, lingers on your curvesbeneaththat little gold bikini.
You blush, wondering what he might be thinking.
Suddenly it hits you exactly what you’ve won. It’s not just a night on a luxury yacht. It’s a night with ahot guyon a luxury yacht. A hot guy who seems to like what he sees when he looks at you.
“Come on!” Corrine calls from the pool, already standing waist-deep in the shallow end between several other partygoers as they sip their drinks. “Whatcha waiting for!? The water’s great!”
You’re riding high on Ziros’ win, feeling confident in your little metallic gold bikini. So confident and hot that you want to show off a little.
“Hold my sunglasses,” you say, handing them over to Ziros as you strut across the deck, giving your hair a little toss as you line your toes up with the edge of the deep end and prepare to dive.
…before drunkenly remembering that you do not actually know how to dive.
Too late.
You manage a sort of half-flop, and you hit the water with a stingingwhump.
But that’s not the worst part.
No.
You surface for air, coughing quietly as you try to hide the fact your bellyflop-dive-whatever that was didn’t go as planned.
Aaaaaand.
Crap.
Something feels different. Something feels…like it is missing.
Oh.
My.
God.
