CHAPTER FIVE — STEPHANIE
Dinner ends, and David and I both linger. When most people have filed out, I approach him.
"So," he says, his voice flat. "What's this special dinner you have cooked up?"
"Follow me," I say confidently, or at least hopefully it comes across as confident, because the truth is I'm quaking in my boots, or rather my three-inch nude pumps.
I'm metaphorically quaking though, because, really, I have no idea.
I spent the entire dinner telling myself I needed to come up with a plan, but then every time I glanced over at David, I got distracted.
I cycled through thoughts of guilt, shame, sadness, and also, as much as I hate to admit it, lust too.
He kept glancing at me throughout the dinner.
I think he was trying to avoid it, but I caught him.
And I caught him looking at me with desire too, and anger, which just made the butterflies in my stomach flutter all that much faster.
In fact, there are so many that I could practically open a conservatory in there.
I walk down the hall of the grand building we're in, acting like I know where I'm going. Fuck. I need to make a decision now.
You know what? Element of surprise.
I throw open a door. I have no idea what I'm about to find. I hope it's not a washroom or something.
I hold my breath as the heavy wood opens.
It's a library.
"A library?" David asks, raising his brows. I nod.
"And where is the chef exactly?"
"Oh, he's cooking off-site and bringing the food here," I say breezily, the words slipping off my tongue like butter. David looks at me and raises his eyebrows.
"Follow me," I say. If I keep moving, maybe he won't question me.
Although, when it comes out that I made this whole thing up, maybe my lie right now will just make him question me all over again. Either way, I'm committed to this lie now. There's no going back.