There’s a knock at my door, and I open it.
Riley is standing there. He looks really good. He’s wearing a deep blue dress shirt with black pants and shiny Italian loafers. I’m talking very expensive, Tommy-has-three-pairs-and-bitched-about-the-price-the-whole-time-he-was-buying-them loafers. His dark hair is slicked back instead of swooped down on his forehead, and he reminds me a bit of Nate from Gossip Girl. He also looks much older this way, and damned if I don’t like it.
My makeup is done, but all I’m wearing is my short pink silk robe with my bra and panties underneath. The way he looks at me makes me suddenly feel naked.
He grabs my waist with his huge hands and says, “You look sexy. This what you’re wearing tonight?”
I’m close to him. He smells amazing.
“I don’t think this is really appropriate.” I laugh.
“Maybe we should skip dinner. I wanna take this off you.” He starts to reach for the robe’s tie.
I should be appalled, but I can handle him. Cush used to tease me like this. “You’re very subtle, huh?”
His dark eyes glisten. “I find the direct approach to be most effective.”
“It probably is, but it’s not very romantic.”
“I’m not really looking for romance.”
“And I’m not really looking for sex.”
He lets go of me, and I step in front of my mirror. I finish running some straightening balm across my hair and then pull my bangs back into a pouf. I add some big hoops, and I like the way I look. I have a kinda seventies vibe, which will be perfect with my dress for tonight.
Riley sits on Morgan’s bed and stares at the ocean on my wall. “That’s gorgeous. I love the ocean.”
“Yeah, me too. Do you surf?”
“I try. We have a house in the Hamptons, so I spend most of my summers there.”
“I love the beach. In case you can’t tell. That’s actually me out there surfing.”
“Really?” He gets up and walks closer to my wall. “And the guy,” he says, pointing at Brooklyn, “that your boyfriend?”
“That’s B, yeah.”
“B? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s just what I call him. His name is really Br-uh- it’s Bradley.”
“So why were you making out with Dallas last night?”
“We have an understanding, I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“So he broke up with you? You don’t have a boyfriend? You lied?”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, really. It’s sorta confusing.”
“Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”
He walks up behind me. I’m still looking in the mirror, trying to decide if I should add more eyeliner.
He leans his head down and kisses my robed shoulder.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him.
“Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll do this.” He grabs my waist and literally picks me up off the floor, takes a few steps, and lays me on the bed.
How is a junior in high school so freaking strong?
“Uh, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He murmurs through my hair, “Oh, I think it’s a very good idea.”
“I can’t, okay. I barely know you. And we need to get to dinner.”
Plus, he reminds me of Cush, and it kinda makes me want to cry.
“Go to the dance with me. Be my date.”
“I was under the impression that the dance was supposed to be a way to meet people, dance with different people, get to know them. There’s a lot of girls here you’ve never met. Surely you want to meet them and dance with them?”
“I couldn’t care less. I want to dance with you and then sneak you back to my dorm.”
“I think you’re moving way too fast.”
“Fine. You’ll dance with me?”
“Yeah. Let me up.”
He still has me pinned underneath him.
“I don’t know if I should believe you.” He gives me a grin. “What if someone else asks you to the dance?”
“Someone else already did, and I said no. And he’s like the god of all Hotties.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“The god of all Hotties? Who’s that?”
“Uh, never mind. Forget I said that.”
“Tell me, or I will be forced to kiss you. And possibly torture you with my tongue. I need to know who my competition is.”
“I don’t remember his name. He’s that goalie guy. Now get up.”
He does as he’s told, gets up, grabs my hand, and pulls me up off the bed in one easy, effortless motion.
It’s really kinda hot.
I run into my closet and grab my dress, and walk back out, holding it in front of me. “So, what do you think? Oh, wait, let me grab my wedges so, you know, you get the full effect.” I dig down in the bottom of my suitcase, grab a pair of Jimmy Choo leopard-print whipstitched wedges, and slide them on my feet. Then I hold the dress in front of me. “Okay. So? You think this will be okay? Be, like, appropriate for tonight?”
“What I think is that you better put that dress on really fast, or we’re not going to make dinner.”