23. Not a Date
23
Roxy
“It’s not a double date. It’s. Not. A. Double. Date.”
I slip my feet into my strappy red heels then stand, smoothing my palms down the black faux-leather pants that fit me like a second skin. My red sweater is cropped with an oversized neck that drops off one shoulder. I check myself out in the mirror and whistle. Damn. I look hot.
Tessa, Riggs, Miles, and I are going dancing at a club in Branston tonight, but it is not a double date. Skye has to work, Hadley is at home nursing a sore throat, and Porter and Foster flew to Los Angeles for some promo spot they booked on a morning news show.
So our big plans for a “friends’ night out” whittled down to me and Miles with the happy couple. And even though I keep reminding myself I’m not going on a date with Miles, I spent an hour getting my makeup just right with the perfect smoky eye and red lip, flat-ironing my hair into a shiny crimson sheet, and picking out the perfect outfit.
I frown at my reflection. Nope. I did not do this for Miles. I always look good when I go out.
In fact, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight.
The thought leaves a sour feeling in my gut, but I refuse to take it back. Miles and I are friends, and if one of us meets someone, we’ll remain friends. Without the benefits.
That’s the deal we made.
That’s the deal we’ll stick to.
I get a text from Miles that he’s on his way, and I take a deep breath. I’ll meet him outside. Waiting for him to come to my door would feel too much like a date. No. I’ll meet him in the parking lot so this whole thing doesn’t feel so formal.
Grabbing my cross-body clutch and shoving my phone inside, I head out, pausing to lock the door behind me. I only have to wait a couple of minutes before I see Miles’ Jeep pull into the lot. He stops beside me, shooting me a frown through his window as I hurry around to the passenger side to climb in.
“You didn’t have to wait in the parking lot,” he says as I close the door and buckle my seatbelt. His frown melts as his eyes roam over me. “Damn. You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, turning so his lips land on my cheek when he leans over for a kiss.
He pulls back quickly. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t want to smear my lipstick. Let’s go. Tessa and Riggs will be waiting for us.”
Our friends had some errands to run in Branston before our night out, so we told them we’d meet them at the club. I’m kind of wishing I’d told Miles I’d meet him there, too, but I had no idea when I agreed to let him pick me up that I’d be freaking out like I am right now.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This is Miles. We see each other all the time. We’ve had dinner out, gone to the amusement park, and attended get-togethers with our friends on multiple occasions. This should be no big deal.
It is no big deal.
Miles watches me for several beats, then heaves a quiet sigh before taking his foot off the brake and coasting out of the parking lot. We’re quiet all the way to Branston. I’m silently berating myself for being such a fucking spaz, and Miles is probably wondering what in the hell is wrong with me.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I say finally, breaking the awful silence.
“Of course,” he replies. “Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can turn around right now.”
“No, I want to,” I say quickly. “Sorry I’m being weird. This is going to be fun.”
When he stretches out an arm to take my hand, I let him. His grip is firm, yet gentle, and I suddenly feel like everything is going to be okay. It’s the Miles Effect, and I’ve probably grown a little more used to it than I should.
By the time we get to the club, I’m feeling relaxed and hopeful for a fun night out with my friends. We see Tessa and Riggs walking across the lot, and they wave when they see us, hopping up onto the sidewalk in front of the entrance to wait.
As soon as Miles parks, I climb down from the Jeep without waiting for him to come around to help me. He quirks a brow at me, but doesn’t comment. He does, however, place a firm hand on my lower back as we walk toward Tessa and Riggs.
“Hey,” I say to Tessa when we step up onto the sidewalk.
“Hey,” she replies, pulling me in for a quick hug before releasing me to give Miles the same treatment.
I hug Riggs, then he swings around to pull open the door, holding it for us to enter. The guys slap each other on the back before following us inside, and I’m already bobbing my head and swinging my hips to the beat of the music pounding through the building.
“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Miles says, and Riggs quickly offers to go with him.
“Margarita on the rocks,” I shout over the music when Miles looks at me in askance.
“Same,” Tessa calls out. “We’ll go find a table.”
Riggs gives her a quick kiss before the guys walk away, and Tessa links her arm through mine and pulls me in the opposite direction. We skirt around the dance floor where dozens of tightly packed bodies are already sweating as they move to the music.
“So, how is the friends-with-benefits thing going?” she asks, bringing her mouth close to my ear as we head toward an empty table.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply, my voice deep and growly.
“Uh-oh,” she says, plopping down and pulling me into the chair next to her. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” I say. “It’s good, really. I’m just…feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling.”
She meets my gaze and stares for a long moment, then tilts her head. “So call off your deal and date him, for real.”
“You know I can’t do that, Tessa.”
“Yes, you can, Roxy.”
I start to shake my head, then freeze when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Craning my neck, I look back to see a stranger behind me wearing a baseball cap and a hopeful expression.
“Would you like to dance?”
He asks the question with a boyish smile that immediately disarms me. I start to smile back, but my expression drops as thoughts of Miles and me crowd through my mind. How would he feel if I accepted?
No. Miles is a friend. I can dance with whomever I want.
Steeling my spine, I nod and push myself up out of my chair. Tessa gives me a “what the fuck are you doing?” look, but I ignore it and allow the stranger to lead me out onto the floor. It’s just a dance. It’s not like I’m going to go home with him, or anything. Right?
Yes. Yes, it’s fine.
And it drives home the fact that Miles and I are just friends. There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t dance with as many guys as I want.
That’s what I keep telling myself as my stomach churns with unease. I start to move, and the guy moves around in front of me, copying my movements.
“I’m Chip,” he shouts, leaning in closer so I can hear him.
“Roxy,” I shout back.
He smiles and nods, and I attempt to lose myself in the music. Chip is a decent dancer, but he’s barely my height in these heels and kind of skinny. Fuck. What am I doing?
Am I destined to compare every man I meet to Miles, and find him lacking?
Shaking my head to clear it, I move in a bit closer. Chip takes that small gesture as an invitation and plasters his body to mine, bumping and grinding his hips suggestively. I start to feel distinctly uncomfortable, but before I can pull away, his arm snakes around me, and his hand goes straight for my ass, kneading it roughly.
Before I can react, he’s suddenly gone, and a large, bulky body stands between us.
“What the fuck?” Chip shouts, spinning around to face his attacker. He takes one look at Miles, then spits out another curse before turning and stomping away, disappearing through the crowd.
Miles spins on me, his expression thunderous. His anger stokes my own anger at this entire situation, and I prop my hands on my hips as I glare at him.
“Why the hell did you do that? I had it under control.”
“You had it under control?” he scoffs. “That creep had his hands all over you. How could you let him touch you like that? You’re here with me.”
“I didn’t let him do anything. You came in all caveman before I could react. And I’m here with you as friends, remember?”
He stares at me for a moment, his face an unreadable mask. “How could I forget?”
Without another word, he spins on a heel and strides toward the table where Tessa and Riggs sit, watching us with worried expressions. Miles bends over and says something to Riggs, then, without a backward glance, leaves the club.
I’m in a bit of a daze as I walk slowly toward the table. What just happened? Did we break up? I shake my head. No. That’s impossible. We’d have to be together to break up.
I slump down into my chair and grab my margarita. I chug half of it while Tessa and Riggs watch me with sad eyes. Setting my glass down, I meet Riggs’ gaze.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if we could make sure you get home safely,” he says, and I nod in response.
This is what I was afraid of. This thing between Miles and me imploding, leaving our friends uncomfortable and having to choose sides. How could I let it come to this?
I’m completely numb, and when Tessa asks if I want to go home now, I nod without meeting her eyes.
Fuck. What have I done?