Page 59 of Dead Pretty

I know going out with Jack is a bad idea.

It’s breaking all my rules.

But … a part of me also wants to go out with him.

It’s been so long since I just did something simple, like go to dinner with someone.

I figure it can’t hurt just this once.

And it doesn’t mean I have to do it again.

He said one date, and that’s all it will be.

We might not even like each other after this date. Maybe the spark that had ignited between us went out yesterday after our hallway interlude.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I haven’t stopped thinking about his hands on me, the way he kissed me, since the moment I left his place.

Pretty sure I dreamed about him last night too.

What I need to do is use this date as a way to stamp out our attraction to each other.

I’m not exactly sure how to do that … but I figure that I’ll think of something when the time comes.

I’ve always been a fast thinker on my feet. Planning has always been my weakness.

I’m a fly-by-the-pants kind of girl.

Jack said he would pick me up for our date at two p.m. Seems early for a date, so I wonder what we’re doing.

Not that it really matters.

Well, it shouldn’t matter.

And the sooner we go out, the sooner it’ll be over with, and I can come back home.

I’m sitting, waiting for Jack to knock on my door.

I was ready for our date in record time. I’m not wearing any makeup. I haven’t in a long time. I have to admit, I do miss the fun of putting on makeup. But when you want to blend in like I do, you don’t dress your face up, avoiding attracting any form of attention to it. Not even if going on a date.

Especially when I don’t want him to like me any more than he already does.

Jack told me to wear warm clothes and walking shoes for our date. Which works for me. I’m not one for dressing up anymore.

So, I’m wearing jeans and an off-the-shoulder dark blue sweater with a white tank underneath it and my furry tan UGG snow boots.

My parker coat, scarf, and gloves are sitting beside me, ready to be put on.

It snowed again overnight, so it’s lying nice and thick on the ground.

There’s a knock on my door, and aside from the fact that I’m expecting Jack, I know it’s him from the way he knocks.

How pathetic is it that I’m familiar with his knock?

Ugh.

I open the door to him, and he looks beautiful. He has on his usual attire. Instead of a T-shirt under his leather jacket though, he’s wearing a dark blue knit sweater.