I cut him off with a condescending hand to his chest, pushing him away from me. “Careful who you’re talking to, Davis, or I’ll personally deliver a dead man into your room.”
He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Just fix it, please,”
“She’s just being dramatic. I’ll go over when she’s cooled down.”
Except when I get to her apartment an hour later, Wren and Kennedy are standing by their kitchen island, arms across their chest, expecting me. It’s like walking into the Lion’s den. I didn’t know two girls could be so fucking terrifying, but they are. They both glared at me, their faces red with anger.
“What did you do, Branson?” Kennedy asks.
“You guys need to chill. She’s just being dramatic. I promise you when I speak to her, she’ll calm down,” I say, doing my best to convince them, but they don’t seem to take it well. I step further into the room, but they make me back up, their protective presence deterring me a little.
“She better. Or so help me God, you will not live to see another day on this earth,” Wren warns. She’s a lot scarier than Miles’s empty threats.
I hold my hands up in surrender, side stepping down the corridor until I reach her room. I knock on the door twice, calling out her name, but she doesn’t respond. I hear the faint footsteps as she unlocks the door. I wait a few seconds before opening it.
As I expected, she’s standing with her back to me, staring at the painting I bought her. Her room must be the biggest one in the apartment because she somehow manages to fit a queen sized bed, a desk, a walk-in closet, and en suite. Her walls are painted a light grey colour with black and white movie posters covering the walls. It’s just soher.
I knew the second she stared at it in the gallery on our fake date as she held my hand, I had to get it for her. It took me longer than I needed to, but I wanted her to have it. For it to be just hers. There’s already so much art in this apartment - courtesy of Kennedy — but I wanted her to have something of her own and the painting makes so much sense for her. ‘You Are Home’because that’s what my brain tells me whenever I’m around her.She is what home feels like.
“You got this for me?” she whispers. I can’t tell if she’s angry at me for doing this or if she’s that emotional that she can’t look at me. I take a step towards her.
“It was supposed to come tomorrow. I was meant to take you out for dinner first,” I say, admitting the truth. I wanted to show her how good I would be for her and to her before giving her a gift as expensive as this one, but the universe had other plans, apparently.
“How did you even get it?” she asks, slowly turning around to me, her arms still against her chest. My breath nearly gets knocked out of me as she blinks up at me, her brown eyes full of innocence, but I know she’s all sin. Her hair is down again, those deep brown waves bouncing off her shoulders. “It wasn’t for sale.”
“I have my ways,” I say, shrugging, shoving my hands into my pockets. She steps closer to me as she narrows her eyes.
“How much did it cost you?”
“Two hundred thousand.” Her eyes basically bulge out of her head. I rest my hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she sways a little. I had enough savings and I wanted to do something nice for her. I know she’s not a stranger to money, so I’m confused as to why she’s so shocked. “What? Are you mad at me?”
“Evan,” she whispers. “Don’t tell me you used all your savings to buy me this. I don’t even spend that much money on myself. I- I’m going to pay you back.”
I silence her ridiculous rambling with a kiss and she’s still in shock before she melts into me. She kisses me back, but she pushes off my chest as she looks up at me, her eyes filled with worry. “I’m serious. I’m going to pay you back every penny.”
“Stop saying that, Scar. Let me be nice to you,” I say before kissing her again. I hold her face to mine as I kiss the side of her mouth. “Plus, I know a better way you can pay me back. Without money.”
“Yeah?”
“Come to dinner with me tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight.” She thinks about it for a second, twisting her lip between her teeth before smiling wide. I want to take her on a real date. One where we’re doing it because we want to.
“Okay, but I’m paying.”
“If you pay, you’ve got to wear the red dress.”
“This deal seems like you’re getting the better end of it,” she challenges, holding her chin high.
“Just wear it. I’m begging you.”
“You know I love it when you beg for me, Branson,” she purrs, trailing her hand up my arm. She’s going to have to wait for tonight. Her friends still don’t know what we’re doing and I sure as hell know she wouldn’t keep quiet if I touched her now. “You won’t be able to keep your hands off me if I do.”
“That’s the whole point,” I whisper back.
* * *
She was right. Of course, she was right. I told her to wear the dress and she did. And she looks fucking stunning. She looks like she’s mine and I can’t stop touching her.
On the car ride here, I kept my hand on her thigh, needing the warmth beneath my fingertips. When I stepped out of the car, I held my hand out for her to clasp her palm into mine. When the wind swayed in her face, I brushed her hair out of her eyes and kept my hand linked with hers until we reached the restaurant.
