“Asher’s here.”
My brow twitches. “Really? Did somebody bribe him?”
“Not that I know of. But Beck was pretty quiet about how he got him here.”
I drop the tissue into the garbage bin beneath my desk and laugh. The lack of awkwardness is . . . relieving. Knowing that what we did doesn’t change anything takes my guilt into a tight fist and squishes it until there’s nothing left but dust.
We’re still best friends.
Even now.
28
Taking her here was a risk.
A huge one, considering it’s our first date and, depending on how well it goes, could very well be our last. Watching Aubrey date from the sidelines over the years should have made this easy on me. Not to mention the last few weeks of being the world’s shittiest dating coach and learning even more about her preferences than I ever picked up on before.
Yet, somehow, I’m still not a thousand percent confident about what I’ve planned for her, and that’s freaking me out.
She doesn’t say a word as I open the car door and offer a hand to help her out. Even once she’s gripped my fingers and stood on long, leather-wrapped legs in the quiet parking lot, she keeps her peachy, glossy lips pressed together. Her eyelashes move beneath the satin blindfold I slipped on her earlier, betraying her curiosity.
Her newly painted blue nails are rounded as they drag over the back of my hand, our fingers linking. I shut the door behind her and swallow my nerves, forcing them into a box. When I stand in front of her, it’s with a smile that I know she can’t see.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” she answers, finally speaking.
The sound of her voice settles me more than my repeated confident boosting thoughts do. “Let’s go, then.”
“You know, I’ve done a really good job of not asking what we’re doing.”
I chuckle, nodding as I give her hand a soft tug and slowly lead her through the secluded parking lot. “You have, and I’m very, very proud.”
“So, when are you going to take the blindfold off?”
“When we get there. If I take it off now, you’ll spoil the surprise.”
“Is it somewhere we’ve gone together before?”
“Aubrey,” I scold lightly.
“Please tell me that I at least dressed appropriately.”
I almost groan.
Not in annoyance or frustration, but from the primal hunger that I’ve been suppressing since picking her up. Regardless of how many times I’ve told myself that she only dressed up like this because of the concert later tonight, I still wondered if maybe, justmaybe, our date played a part in her decision.
The straight-legged, leather pants that wrap around her thighs like a second skin fell victim to my heated gaze a dozen times in the car, and now, as I allow myself another look, I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her just how much I like them.
Her hips are wide and still so goddamn grippable that my palms tingle. Lifting my eyes, I’m met with the shimmering, sheer fabric of the long-sleeve she’s put on over a plain black tube top. Her onyx hair cascades over the see-through material in loose waves that dip down to kiss her waist and brush against the ring of black feathers around her wrists.
“You look perfect,” I rasp, straining against saying more. Too much.
“Are you just saying that because we’re on a date?”
My fingers twitch to lift her blindfold so she can see just how serious I am.
“No, Aubrey. I mean it. You look gorgeous. Nobody is going to believe that you’re here with me.”
