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Across the room, Rowan's hand stills mid-motion, fork halfway to his mouth. He glances down at his slate, frowning as he reads it, then looks up again like he can feel it, like he knows exactly where I am without actually checking.

Color creeps up his neck anyway, but he keeps chewing, dragging it out like that'll buy him time. His gaze shifts to the window, lingering there a little too long before dropping back to the screen.

Just say yes, little mouse.

A minute passes, then he finally dips his gaze and types back.

I don't want to go on a date with you.

A grin pulls at my mouth, because it's an actual sentence this time, not just two words telling me to fuck off.

Fuck yes. Giving the air an invisible fist bump, I lean back in my chair. See? A whole sentence. Was that so hard?

Lucan shoulders me. "You all right?"

"Fuck off."

I type back.

yes, you do. you have questions. i've got answers

I watch him read it this time, really watch him. The way his shoulders tighten, the way his thumb presses a little too hard against the edge of the slate.

tonight. black chapel

His head lifts a fraction, just enough to scan the room without committing to it, but he doesn't dare look my way. Our table is the loudest by far, so it wouldn't take him long to find me.

You're crazy.

I shake my head, unable to stop smiling. He's right, the little fucker. He sure as fuck is right.

Crazy as a bat.

wouldn't you like to find out

one drink

Around me, chairs scrape against the floor as the guys start getting up.

"You coming?" Rafe asks.

"On my way," I mumble, already typing.

come on, little mouse

Yeah, that lands. I see it in the way his jaw tightens, in the way he exhales through his nose like he's already annoyed, already getting pulled in deeper than he wants to be. He knows he shouldn't.

I'll think about it.

Fucking fuck, yes.

But my victory is short-lived when I spot that slimy motherfucker Adrian heading toward Rowan with his megawatt smile and empty fucking wallet. His family fortune disappeared years ago, but apparently nobody ever told Adrian he's supposed to stop acting like a prince.

He says something to Rowan that makes his shoulders tense, not in the awkward way people react to flirting, but like they've stepped back into a conversation that already existed before I walked in.

Rowan answers, eyes flicking down for half a second, and something about the exchange sits wrong under my skin because it feels familiar in a way I can't explain.

Then Adrian drops into the seat across from him, his back to me, and Rowan's expression tightens.