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I perk up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's just that, I usually date girls a little more..." He traces down my body, not bothering to hide his amused grin. "Showy."
Could he be any more rude?! I'm moments from tackling him to the ground or setting his rear end in flames, until I dare give myself a once-over.
"Don't get me wrong," he muses, "I'm all for the comfy look, but I don't think it's gonna fly tomorrow."
I ball my hands into fists, debating whether to send one flying at his perfect nose. "You think I'd wear this at a party? I may be a nerd, but I'm not socially inept." Well, not entirely, anyway...
His palms shoot out defensively. "Woah, woah. That's not what I meant—"
"And what's so wrong with my closet, huh?"
"Nothing. I'll admit, it could use a few more pieces but... I like the way you dress," he says, and I swear I detect nothing but honesty. My tension eases up, just a tad. "Unfortunately, though, the guests I invite to my parties, dollface, they're like bloodhounds, only their noses sniff out designer labels."
I bite my lip, fighting back a grin. Dammit, Juliana, don't laugh! He's still using pet names, when you told him not to.
He sinks a hand into his pocket, retrieving his wallet.
"I can buy my own clothes,"
"Not at these stores."
I cross my arms, denying the black card he offers me, even though I know he's right.
"Come on, Jules."
I turn my head, gazing out the windows.
"So, that's how it's gonna be, huh? Too proud to use my card."
"This isn't about pride," I scoff, but my tone lacks conviction, even to my own ears. What else would it be about?
"No?" he hums, taking another step, close enough now that his musky cologne frolics up my nostrils, clouding my judgment that's screaming at me to run back to my room. "Then I assume you're not too proud to discuss the other night."
My stomach drops. "Uh—Uhm... I don't know what you mean."
"You don't? Well, it happened four or five nights ago. I heard some interesting noises..."
Dreads wraps its tendrils around me, pinning my legs in place, and it takes every ounce of my effort not to vomit all over Hayden's polished Oxfords. Please God, if you're listening, just smite me already.
"Ew, I don't want to hear about your disgusting fantasies."
His brows tick upwards as he brushes his fingers down a strand of my hair, then twirls it around his pointer.
My toes curl in my slippers. "I-I mean... I think you're imagining things. Or had a weird dream."
"You're probably right. It did feel like one." He edges closer, forcing my neck to tilt back even more. "Want to know why?" When I can't utter a response, a low chuckle escapes him, and it's like I'm pressed up against that window all over again, a slave to my urges.
"Well, for starters..." His mouth is minty on the way down to my ear, igniting heat between my thighs. "Usually, from my experience, filthy things don't slip out of such pretty lips."
I gasp, scrambling away from him. From there, it's all a blur. On a tidal wave of adrenaline, I snatch that damn black card from his grasp—to hell with pride—and scurry down the hall like a spooked cat, leaving his smirk in my dust.
"My PIN is seven-two-six-five!"
NINETEEN
JULIANA
