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But with Arlo? I lift my gaze to his and find that he’s still waiting for an answer, albeit patiently. I’m notafraidof him. I’m not nervous around him like I am Ashe or Ezra, who I still can’t read well beyond his blatantly fake smiles and not-so-blatant fake concern for my well being.
It makes things difficult in ways I don’t like, and I sigh as I steeple my hands together in front of me and rest my chin on them.
“I’ve never been,” I tell him finally. “I mean, I haven’t gone since that new member thing. I signed up, though? So I guess I’m technically a member whocouldget into their parties.”
Arlo waves me off. “Even if you weren’t, I could get you in,” he assures me. “I’m a member, and members in good standing are allowed a plus one. So…” He shrugs.
“Are all of the Lost Boys members?”
“Yep.” He pops the p on the word, and his grin widens a little. “We’ve all paid our dues like a decade in advance, too. Plus, the ownersloveIsaac and Ezra, so I’m pretty sure they could get away with murder and not be kicked out.”
“They loveEzra?” I repeat, wondering if I’ve heard him wrong. It isn’t that Ezra doesn’t seem…lovable. Not exactly.
But well…
He’s frightening and confusing and creeps me out more than a little. But maybe if I could read him, or I understood him a little better, that wouldn’t be the case.
Maybe I’m just dumb, and other people get him more than me. Or maybe other people just prefer to fall for the mask that he wears so well.
“Everyone loves Ezra,” Arlo says with a sigh as he rolls his eyes. “You know how he is. He’s sofriendlywhen he wants to be, and people think he’s being sincere. So, yeah. They adore him.”
That’s a frightening thought, and I look away for a moment before glancing back to see Arlo is still waiting on an answer.
“When do you want to go?” I ask at last; because no matter what, I can’t seem to shake the urge to go toThe Denwith or without him.
But right now,withhim is more appealing, and I hate that I can’t deny that part of me.
“I’ll come get you after your shift on Friday. At your apartment around eight,” the dark-haired tattoo artist offers, rubbing his forearm unconsciously as I watch.
“Oh. I mean, I can just meet you there,” I suggest instead, waving away his offer of picking me up.Thatmakes me feel unbalanced. Like I’m giving him all of the power in the situation, even though I’m perfectly capable of calling an Uber and getting myself out of there if I really need to.
“Nah, I’ll come to pick you up, okay?” He gets up from the table, and I follow, just in time for him to sling an arm around my shoulders and pull me close to him. “No use arguing with me,” he goes on, his words cheerful and matching the grin on his lips. “I want to do it. Besides…”
As we walk out the doors, he leans close to me so that his lips brush my ear. “I don’t think I need to remind you that you belong to us, right? Me included. So I’m coming to pick you up, and we’re going to go havefun.” The way he says it makes the butterflies in my stomach take off into sudden flight.
The way hekissesme when I look up to argue with him has a completely different effect. I nearly trip into him as his kiss sears my lips, teeth following to nip at them until they burn with his affection. I grasp onto his jacket, vaguely aware that he’s moved us away from the door, and his back is against the brick wall of the restaurant as he devours my mouth like he has every right to.
And I suppose, according to him, he does.
