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“Too busy to help you?” She arches her eyebrows, incredulous.
An expression I’ve seen so many times before. That I grew up with money is common knowledge. People assume I’m the privileged princess of Kluvberg’s royal family. The fact that I don’t play football has never been relevant.
“I’m not feeling great. Going to head out,” I say, grabbing my clutch off the table.
“It’s barely midnight.” Clara tosses her dark hair over one shoulder. “And it’s been forever since you came out.”
Maybe I’d feel less guilty about leaving if I didn’t know they want me to stay in case any Kluvberg players show up.
I open my clutch, checking to make sure my phone and keys are inside. “I’ll see you guys soon.”
Then, I head for the door before any of them can say anything else.
Felix, the bouncer, offers me a friendly smile as I reach the exit. “Heading out?”
I nod.
“Let me get you a car.”
Yeah, so there are perks to having the last name Beck. Especially here. Adler makes sure his staff is on high alert whenever I stop by.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the back of a sedan, speeding toward my neighborhood. I pull my phone out of my clutch, then open my last text chain with Will and scroll through the messages until I reach the very first one. The one that I sent, using the number I promised myself I wouldn’t.
I lied to him. I still have the damn ticket he gave me sitting on the table next to my bed. Most nights, I stare at it as I’m trying to fall asleep.
“Excuse me. Do you mind taking me to Sparkassenstraße 10 instead?” I ask the driver.
“Of course not.”
I second-guess the whole trip to Will’s building. But I still climb out of the car and head inside, walking down the hallway until I reach his apartment door.
He answers on the second knock, his eyebrows rising subtly when he registers it’s me. His gaze drags down the skimpy dress and heels I’m wearing, something flashing across his face before it settles into assurance. He leans against the doorframe. Shirtless—again—and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. It’s an enjoyable, distracting view.
“Hey,” he says.
My grip on my clutch tightens as my palms prickle. “Hey.”
We stare at each other, the air itself seeming to thicken around us.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” I finally ask when he continues to say nothing.
“No,” Will replies.
“Why not?”
“Because you smell like tequila and you’re wearing a dress that barely covers your ass. Because I’ve had a shitty fucking week, and so far, this is the highlight of it, and all that means that you coming in is a really bad idea.”
I step forward, forcing him to move aside and let me in. “None of those are great reasons.”
Will scoffs as he shuts the door behind me.
I toss my clutch onto the countertop. Walk over to the couch. His laptop is open, another baseball game playing on the screen. A glass, half full of either water or vodka, is on the floor. Mussed cushions make me think he was lying down before I showed up.
“You should have bought a coffee table.”
His apartment looks better. A lot better than the basically empty place it was before last weekend. But it’s far from a settled home.
He passes me by and takes a seat on the couch, studying me. “You’re drunk.”
