Chapter 17
seventeen
Miles holds up the little black dress he wanted me to wear last Thursday when I met up with Chase for drinks. “It is time.” He holds out the small piece of black fabric and nods toward me. “Put it on.”
“Are you sure?” I ask as I take the hanger from him and hold the dress to my body. “This seems like a little much.”
“Trust me, I’ve seen you in this dress, and I’ve seen you in everything else you own. You’re wearing the dress.”
“Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?”
He crosses his arms. “Both.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I quickly strip down to my underwear and pull the dress overhead. The thin straps carry a dipped neckline that shows more cleavage than anything else I own, and the slimming waistline gives me a classic figure. It stops just above the knee. It’s one of those rare pieces of clothing you sometimes stumble upon that feels like it’s tailor-made for your body. I bought it for a friend’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago and haven’t worn it since—despite Miles suggesting it for every event .
“Damn, Candace,” he says as soon as it’s on. “I think it somehow fits you even better now.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, and I think he’s right. I’ve filled out a little since I first bought it. I was worried it might be small on me now, but it hugs my frame in all the right places.
My hair is down in loose waves, and I add a little more makeup than usual to help dress things up. “And you don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, turning to face him.
Miles takes a seat on my bed. “I think he’s going to try to fuck you, and if he doesn’t, I think he might like boys.”
“This isn’t a real date . Remember?” I turn to look at myself in the mirror one more time. “He’s not actually interested in me.”
He waves off my comment. “Yeah, I know. He likes blondes who serve coffee.” His knees bounce. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
I give him a warning look over my shoulder. “Just . . . be nice.”
He gets to his feet. “Shut up. I’m always nice.” He points to a pair of strappy heels—also picked by him. “Put these on.” Without another word, he walks out of my room, and I’m left alone to do the finishing touches.
Chase:
Be there in 5.
For a fake date, this feels real. My nerves and excitement run away with all the hypothetical ways the night might go. Just knowing he’ll be here in a matter of minutes is enough to spike my heart rate.
Forcing out a deep breath, I sit on the edge of the bed and slip on the shoes Miles chose, sliding the back strap over my heel. With these shoes and a delicate bracelet, I stand in front of the mirror again for a final review.
I look incredible .
Do I look like myself? I’m not sure, but the girl in the mirror looks fearless. I usually am fearless—more than I have been lately, at least.
You are a hot, successful woman in your twenties. Start fucking acting like it.
There’s a knock at the door, and the tiny yelp that leaves my lips contradicts my pep talk immediately.
Miles is on his way to the door when I come out of the hallway, and I hold up a hand. “I’ll get it.”
His hands fly up in the air, and he stands frozen in place. Once I reach for the door handle, I shoot him a glare, and he drops his arms with a laugh. Gathering my bearings, I remind myself to breathe and open the door.
My anxiety and nerves melt away with one look at Chase’s disarming smile. He’s wearing a white button-down dress shirt, navy blue slacks, and brown leather shoes, and he looks like someone who just walked out of a magazine trying to sell each of those things.
“Hey,” I say with an easy smile.
“Hey, yourself.”
I step aside. “Come in. I just have to get my purse.”
Once he’s in the apartment, he looks around, taking it all in—including Miles standing off to the side between the kitchen and entryway. It’s always a fun moment when dates realize my roommate is a guy. There’s usually a shift in their expression—the mild surprise they try to hide. Sometimes Miles will pretend to be straight just to fuck with them.
Nothing in Chase’s expression falters. Taking a step toward Miles, he reaches out a hand. “Hey, man. I’m Chase.”
Miles meets his outstretched hand. “Miles. It’s nice to meet you.” He glances at me before locking on Chase. “So, are we allowed to know where you’re taking her tonight?”
Chase moves his hands to his pockets as he leans against our entryway, crossing his ankles. Instead of directing his answer to Miles, he looks at me. “What do you think of Ella’s?”
My hand slows as I hold my small black bag to my body. “Ella’s?” It’s one of the nicest restaurants in the city, and one I never thought I’d find myself sitting in.
Miles lets out a slow whistle. “Aren’t they always booked?”
Chase gives Miles a trace of a smile. “I have a reservation.” He lifts his gaze to me as I walk toward him. “But we can go somewhere else if you prefer.”
“Are you kidding?” I say with a laugh. “Ella’s is fine—more than fine.” I pause, looking down at myself. “Am I okay in this?” I hope he says yes, because if Ella’s calls for something nicer, we’ll have to stop at a store on the way.
“More than okay.”
My eyes snap up to find him watching me intently, and I’d pay an obscene amount of money to know what he’s thinking right now.
I know Miles is eating up this interaction, so I’m grateful when all he says is, “Well, you two better get going. Treat my girl right.”
Chase holds out his hand a second time for Miles. “She’s in good hands.”
“Oh, I have no doubt,” Miles says with a trace of laughter, and I know that’s our cue to leave—before he says something about the many things he’s sure Chase can do with his hands.
I blow Miles a kiss and head into the hall with Chase closing the door behind us. Not even seconds after the door latching, I get a text from my not-so-subtle roommate.
Miles:
OKAY ZADDY!
My lips twist to fight my smile, and I slip my phone back into the small bag.
“Everything all right? ”
My head snaps up. “Yes. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
I wait for him to walk, but he doesn’t.
“You look—” He shakes his head slightly. “You look amazing.”
Even as my heart hammers in my chest, I crinkle my nose. “Thank you?”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why the question?”
With a subtle lift of my shoulder, I start toward the exit. “I don’t know. This whole practice thing makes compliments a little weird.”
He catches my hand. “You think I’m lying?”
Looking up at him, I try my best to figure him out, but it’s useless. “I don’t know what to think.”
In one swift movement, he pulls me to him. “Then let me make this very clear.” He glances at my hand in his before meeting my stare again. “Nothing I say to you, tonight or any other night, is a lie. I might lay it on a little thicker than if we weren’t doing this, but I won’t lie to you, Candace.” He brushes my cheek with his free thumb, and I could get lost in the warmth of his eyes. “You’re beautiful. That’s just a fact.” He looks down at what I’m wearing, his jaw tensing. “And in that dress, you could break any man—not just me.”
He steps away, watching for my reaction, and I’m left with my head spinning. “Well, in that case, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile has shifted slightly to amusement, and I wonder how obvious it is that I’m struggling to breathe.
“Nice tattoo by the way.” He gestures toward my floral half sleeve. I guess all the shirts I’ve worn around him before have hidden it.
“Do you like tattoos?” I ask, curious if this is a good thing or if, like my brown hair, it’s just another thing to make me less his type .
Keeping his gaze fixed on the floral design on my arm for a moment, he swallows and nods. “Right now? Yes. Very much.” I let out a burst of laughter, and he grins. “Come on,” he says as he holds his hand out for me to take. “Let’s go.”
The way he looked at me lingers on my skin as his words echo in my head, and I have to force my feet to move forward.
I am in way over my head.
We walk out to the parking lot, and the only car parked this way is a Lexus. Of course . He would drive a car that’s nice without automatically making him look like an asshole. It isn’t too flashy, and it doesn’t come with a stigma attached to it—like how everyone who drives a BMW thinks they own the road.
When he clicks the button on the fob and confirms that’s the exact car we’re walking toward, I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed. I still want to find something I don’t like about him. I need to sniff out his fatal flaw like a damn bloodhound and let go of this silly crush.
Keeping my hand in his, he walks with me around to the passenger side and opens the door. “Thank you,” I say as I sink into the seat. I think my plan is working as far as becoming desensitized goes. He held my hand for the entire walk to the car, and after the first few seconds, my breathing returned to normal. And a few seconds after that, my shoulders relaxed. I can do this. I can be around Chase as his friend. We can flirt and touch for the sake of keeping his predator of a boss at bay, and I think I’ll be able to keep my wits about me.
Resting his forearm on the open doorframe, he looks down at me with that easy smile of his. “How did I get so lucky to have met you?”
Oh, fuck him. With a shake of my head, I reach for the seatbelt. “Get in the car, Chase.”
He closes my door, but not before I catch a trace of a chuckle.