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“You know, depositing dresses on beds isn’t how you’re supposed to ask a girl out,” I tell him, trying to sound annoyed rather than… whatever it is I’m feeling.
Intrigued? Worried? Nervous? There’s too much going on in my head for me to really know.
Sloan just gives me a look, firm and almost bored. He picks up his can of soda and takes a sip before he speaks again. “I’m not asking.”
Rory and Levi just stand there watching it. Levi looks a little bothered, and I’m willing to bet it’s because Sloan wants to go out with me. We haven’t really talked about what happened between us since it happened, but there’s something that looks a lot like jealousy in his eyes. Rory, on the other hand, just seems amused. He glances between the two of us, like he’s waiting for me to answer Sloan’s comment with a sharp one of my own.
It makes sense, considering Rory told me he doesn’t care if the others want me too. He just wants to be a part of it. Especially since I freaked out a little after we had sex, it seems like he doesn’t want to stop me from exploring things with either of the other guys if that’s what I want to do.
Of course, the problem is, I have no fucking idea what I want to do. I don’t know what to think about that.
Or any of this, for that matter.
I wish I could whip out my phone and record a video of this entire exchange and send it to Scarlett to get her advice on what I’m supposed to do here. I’m in so far over my head it’s not even funny. I want to tell Sloan no. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to punch his stupid face in or take the dress in my hands and strangle him with it. I remember what Scar said about me not wanting to be with someone who killed my father, and she’s right.
But it’s more than that, even. I’ve never met anyone as controlling and surly as Sloan is. So fucking possessive and territorial without having any right to be.
Maybe when this first started, I thought those qualities were annoyingly attractive, but I hate everything about him now. The way he stares at me like he knows I’m going to say yes. The way he’s trying to lay this claim in front of the other two, like he has any fucking right to do that. How even if we do go out, he’ll probably try to pretend it didn’t happen afterward, the way he always does whenever the two of us have a moment.
He killed my dad.
I saw it happen.
And the thought of going out with my father’s murderer makes my skin crawl in the worst way.
But… my plan is working. The guys are loosening up around me. Levi is jealous because he probably wants to ask me out, and Rory just wants me to be happy or something. Either way, it’s a win for getting them to trust me. This is my first chance to get Sloan alone and work on him, without the haze of lust and sex being in the way, and I have to take it. Who knows when I’ll get another opportunity like this if I throw it back in his face.
“Fine,” I say, leveling a look at him after a long moment. “I’ll go out with you. But I’m not wearing the fucking dress.”
14
Not waiting for Sloan to respond, I turn and head back upstairs, leaving the three of them to do whatever it is they do when I’m not around. After closing my door, I throw the dress on the bed and turn to go to my closet to find something else to wear, but then I make the mistake of looking back at it.
Motherfucker.
It’s beautiful, I have to give it that. If Sloan picked it out himself, then he has good taste, and I make a face at myself for even thinking that. I can’t help but run my hands over the smooth, satiny material, loving the way the midnight blue color looks against my skin.
“Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath. I’m not going to wear it on our “date,” but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least try it on, right?
That’s mistake number two.
I get undressed and pull the dress up over my hips, slipping the straps over my shoulders and letting it settle on my body before I glance in the mirror. Of course it’s even more fucking gorgeous when I’m wearing it. Dammit.
The blue fabric shimmers softly, almost like the night sky. It’s not as long as the first dress they got me, falling around my ankles with a skirt that flares out when I walk or twirl. It hugs my waist and draws attention to my cleavage with a low-cut, scooped neckline. It’s simple, but effective, and I don’t want to take it off.
“Goddammit.” I scowl at my reflection and then go hunt down some shoes that will work with it.
I know I said I wasn’t going to wear it, but I am. Not because Sloan told me to, but because I look damn fucking good in it. So there. If I have to go out with him, then I’m going to make sure he can’t take his eyes off me. I can play this to my advantage, and I fully intend to.
I take some time to wash my hair when I shower, blow-drying it before attacking it with my curling iron until it falls in loose, dark curls over my shoulders. I pin one side back out of my face and then spend a little more time doing my makeup. I’ve never been a girly-girl really, since I was raised by my dad and always getting into scrapes. Gen
erally speaking, I’d rather spend my time in a sports bra and hand wraps, but sometimes it’s nice to look good.
When I look at my reflection in the mirror once I’m done getting ready, I smile because I look better than good.
Sloan probably bought this dress as a power play, but I think the final point will go to me.
I grab my purse and head downstairs at five minutes to seven. Rory and Levi are on the couch, eating something that smells spicy out of takeout containers. They both stop and look at me, their gazes moving up and down my body as they take in the dress and me in it. Sloan comes walking in a second later, and he does the same thing.
