My breath catches. The waitress returns with more napkins, blissfully oblivious, and I break eye contact like my life depends on it. I take a long drink of water. Too long. Dean laughs under his breath, not mocking, just… knowing. And God help me, I like it.
When we leave, he walks a half-step behind me like he’s making sure no one bumps into me, and then pushes me to the inside of the sidewalk, making sure he’s closer to the street. And the stupidest little thrill goes through my chest. Damn him. By the time I get to my room, my pulse is doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Today was supposed to be normal.
But the quiet moments hit harder than the loud ones. The way he looked at me when I laughed. The way he leaned in when I talked. The way he saw me; not the reporter, not the camera, me. And now I’m supposed to get ready to go out looking like I don’t care that I spent the entire day flirting with Dean Ross? Fantastic.
I dump my camera bag on the bed and stare at my suitcase like it personally wronged me. I want to look good, but not obvious. Sexy, but not screaming it. Confident, but not like I’m trying to impress a man who definitely shouldn’t matter this much.
I groan and flop face-first onto the mattress. This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I last six minutes before I grab my phone and text Lily.
Me: Help. Please. Crisis.
She knocks on my door ten minutes later. “Sadie?” she calls softly. “Everything okay?”
I yank the door open and wave her inside like I’m smuggling contraband. “No. Everything is awful.”
Lily steps in, takes one look at the hurricane of clothes on my bed, and smiles gently. “Getting ready for tonight?”
I flop onto the bed again. “I’m not sure what I’m getting ready for, but I don’t want to look like a troll next to everyone else in your orbit.”
Lily sits beside me, smoothing my hair back from my face. “You are beautiful, Sadie. You don’t need help to be that.”
“Tell that to my duffel bag,” I huff out.
She laughs softly, then squeezes my hand. “Okay. Show me what you were thinking.” I show her three outfits. She picks a fourth. A black mini skirt and a fitted half-shirt, the sleeves sheer. It’s gorgeous, subtle, and juuust enough “oh damn” to be lethal.
“This one,” she orders.
I swallow. “It’s… a lot.”
“It’s perfect,” she assures me. “And you’re allowed to want to feel attractive.”
I exhale; throat tight. “Even if I don’t know why?”
She gives me a knowing smile. “You know why. You’re just not ready to say it.”
My pulse stutters.
Lily helps with my makeup. We go soft glam, smoky liner, hair pulled into loose waves that looks effortless but definitely isn’t. By the time I slip on my boots and pull on a light jacket, I don’t look like I’m trying too hard. I look like a woman who knows exactly who she is. And maybe, just maybe, I’m ready for Dean Ross to see me this way.
As I head toward the elevator, my heart starts pounding. Tonight feels dangerous. When the doors slide open and I step inside, I know one thing for certain-
Dean Ross is going to ruin me. And God help me but, I kind of want him to.
Chapter Thirteen
Dean
Mystical Magic
Benson Boone
Mikey and I step into the club just after ten, and the place is already pulsing. Lights strobing, bass thudding like a heartbeat determined to bruise something inside you, and bodies already littering a bulk of the dance floor. Lincoln, Nebraska might not be L.A. or New York, but tonight it’s loud enough, wild enough, chaotic enough to keep me from thinking too much.
Or at least, it should be enough. But my head’s been somewhere else since lunch. Or to be more concise, on someone else. Mikey elbows me as we’re led into the VIP section overlooking the dance floor.
“Dude, try to look like you’re happy to be here. You’re killing my vibe.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I scowl over at him.
