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“Not really,” I say, smiling.
He adds another layer, softly rubbing it in. Then, he leans over and kisses a dry piece of skin near it. “Kenny said to do this once every hour for the first day, so keep the bottle handy.”
“I will.”
“You don’t want it to scab.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do it less as it heals.”
“All right.”
“Will you go to the mask ball with me?”
My breath catches.
“What?” I ask.
“Will you...” he kisses the same dry spot again, “go to the masquerade ball with me tomorrow night?”
For a second, I don’t move. I assume that I just misheard him — but how could I have misheard him twice?
The masquerade ball? The Greek masquerade ball?
I pivot to look at him over my shoulder again. “No,” I answer.
Drew smiles with a raised finger. “Now, before you say no again?—”
“No.”
“—consider saying yes instead.”
I chortle. “What? No, Drew. The mask ball is for the Greek system.”
“Which I’m a part of, so you can go. I invited you.”
I pause. I scratch my forehead. I don’t understand why he’s evading the actual point.
“It’s... very public,” I say. “Not to mention a lot of those people know Seth. My brother.”
“I know,” Drew says with a shrug.
I bite down. “So... no. No, Drew. I won’t go with you.”
Still, he keeps his smile as he wraps his arms around my waist. “You let me worry about all of that,” he says.
“Wow, you don’t spend a lot of time with people with anxiety, do you?”
“I’ll take care of the logistics,” he says, leaning close. “All I want you to worry about is getting all dressed up and having a good night with me... as a friend.”
“As a friend?”
“As far as anyone else is concerned, that’s what we are. We just have to act like it for a few hours.”
“Friends or not, Seth made me promise not to go.”
He waves a hand. “He’ll pout at first, but Seth will not let that ruin his night. Believe me. After five minutes, he’ll be yanking you into the mosh pit with everybody else.”
