Blue glances between them, biting on her lip. "What exactly are you two?"
Demi declares louder than necessary. "He's basically my after-hours chauffeur slash bodyguard slash—" she pauses, eyes dancing down his body, "—accessory."
"Accessory," Blue repeats, amused.
Mikhail locks his gaze on Demi, and something private and loaded passes between them. Then Demi breaks eye contact and takes a long sip of wine.
Why does it seem like she's the one in control?
Demi pivots like a pro. "Okay, okay, enough about me. I want details." She points at me and Blue like we're exhibits. "How did you two even—" she makes a vague gesture, "—happen?"
Blue chokes on her drink.
I keep my face neutral, like my heart isn't hammering, because I know Mikhail is watching every answer for weakness.
"It just happened," I comment.
Demi's eyes narrow. "Wow. Incredible. Groundbreaking. Pulitzer."
Blue puts her hand over her face, half laughing.
"We ran into each other outside of the office. I believe you were at the restaurant on one occasion," I offer, knowing I need to give her something to shut her up.
Demi's expression softens despite herself. "Okay. That's actually kind of cute."
Mikhail studies me as if he's trying to decide whether my answer was rehearsed or real.
Demi announces, "Okay, next plan. After-dinner walk, then photos. Maybe we should go to the rooftop bar downtown. Blue needs content, and so do I."
Blue laughs, breathless and happy. "Yes. Let's do it!"
The sound slices through me. I set my wineglass down carefully. "Bluebird..."
Her laughter fades as she tilts her head back to look up at me.
I state, "We shouldn't go anywhere tonight."
Her brows knit. "What? Why not?"
I keep my voice low and steady, the same tone I use when we're alone, and the world gets too loud. "Your parents don't know about us yet. If someone sees us out together, or a photo of us hits someone's feed, it won't be good. Everything we've been careful about unravels before you even get the chance to explain it on your terms."
She searches my face, the excitement dimming into something smaller and more fragile. "What about just a walk?"
I slide one hand down her arm, lacing our fingers together, and tug her gently to her feet so we're facing each other. "I want that rooftop bar. I want the photos, the night air, and you in that dress under city lights. I want all of it. But not at the cost of your parents finding out the wrong way. Not when we're this close to telling them."
Demi sits up straighter, sensing the change. "Red, come on. We can be discreet. Hats, dark corners?—"
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intend.
Demi's eyes widen.
I glance at Mikhail. "Want to help me out here since you're in the same boat?"
His arrogance flares across his expression. "I think you're doing a good job for both of us."
I scowl at him, then soften for Blue. "I'm not saying never. I'm saying not tonight. Let's talk to your parents first. Then we'll walk every rooftop in the city if you want. I promise."
Her eyes shimmer with frustration and disappointment, but also understanding. She exhales slowly, the way I taught her, four counts in, six out. Then she leans forward and presses her forehead to my chest, groaning, "I hate waiting."
