They’re in character.
They’re really in character.
I turn to Tyler, praying for rescue.
He just lifts his wine glass casually, watching me drown without lifting a finger.
“Fear not,” he drawls, perfectly straight-faced. “Her virtue is entirely safe… for now.”
I choke on my water, spluttering like a drunk trying to blow out birthday candles.
The pink flamingo woman claps her hands delightedly, as if he’s just announced a surprise proposal. Somehow the entire table leans in, turning dinner into an amateur dramatics hostage situation.
I mouth “I hate you” at Tyler across the rim of my glass.
He winks back like the smug bastard he is.
I try to act casual as the first course arrives, some delicate, suspiciously slimy thing nestled on a fancy plate.
It’s probably meant to be prawn mousse, but honestly, it looks like the ghost of seafood past, pale, gelatinous, trembling if you so much as breathe on it.
I jab at it a little too enthusiastically with my fork.
The thing slithers off my plate in a majestic, quivering arc and lands squarely on Tyler’s pristine black trousers.
Dead centre.
A perfect, glistening splatter. White. Viscous.
And for one horrified heartbeat, my brain supplies the absolute worst comparison imaginable.
No.
Nope.
Not going there.
Except… now I’ve gone there.
I’m staring at Tyler’s lap like I’ve just committed a sex crime with shellfish, and the harder I try not to think it, the louder my brain screams “cum joke.”
Brilliant. I’ve managed to rebrand shellfish as smut.
Tyler looks down, raises an eyebrow, and drawls, “At least buy me dinner first, milady.”
I make a noise somewhere between a squeak and a dying pigeon.
People at nearby tables turn to look.
Before I can even think of apologising or calling an Uber and fleeing the country entirely, Tyler casually sweeps the offending blob off his trousers, holding it up between two fingers with all the menace of a Bond villain and none of the shame.
He inspects it for half a second.
And then, with the slow, deliberate smugness of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, pops it into his mouth.
Chews once.
Swallows, smirking.
