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“Why?” If she thinks she’s going to get me to say more about my messed-up childhood, she’s got the wrong guy.
But Britney doesn’t suggest anything close to that. “Well,” she says. “Now that I’m going on a date for the first time in Philly . . .”
Her eyes are shining brighter with something close to mischief dancing in them, and I feel my defensiveness dissolve. In spite of myself, I’m curious.
“What do you want to do next?”
Going back to my apartment would be a great suggestion, especially since being reminded of what it felt to touch her would rid me of how foolish I feel about spilling my guts to her.
“I was thinking . . .” she says, her gaze never leaving mine. “We could go to a nightclub. I’ve never been to one here.”
CHAPTER 9
BRITNEY
So far, the night is going according to plan. He’s leading me down the street to Club 99, and I remind myself to stay on script.
Letting him get hot and hungry for me isn’t going to cut it this time. I started laying the groundwork back at the Furman’s estate when I made a move on him, just enough for him to figure out how little he knew about me. And now, he believes that I am just dying to know what a night club looks like since I’ve never been to one before.
Alex’s hand rests heavy on my lower back as we move closer to the entrance. He paid the cover charge and is now slowly guiding me into the warm interior. It looks exactly like the one I went to every week back in New York. Dark with disco lights, sweaty bodies gyrating to the music, and a few closeted sitting booths at the other end of the space.
Alex nods toward the bar, which is only a few feet away from us. “Want me to get something for you?” When his gaze leaves the bar, I notice he’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s scouring for . ..
Cameras? I think so for a fraction of a second until I see his eyes narrow when he spots a guy staring at my dress.
He’s looking for other men, I realize with a start. He thinks that this is my first nightclub experience, and he wants to make sure no one else is going to come up to me the moment he leaves.
I feel a tinge of pleasure at his misplaced jealousy, and I hate myself for even caring. Going off script would be foolish. Like when I asked him about his family even though I never intended to.
And I actually felt compassion for him.
I remind myself now that I do not care about Alex. He’s far less grating than he was a month ago, but he’s still an annoying jerk. I cannot let myself be muddled into thinking he is redeemable based on how he acts tonight. He probably played out a similarly charming script for Janice, who is still hard at work trying to ruin him five weeks after her first social media rant.
I don’t need to feel pity, or anything else, for him. All I want to do is get photographs of us in a place like this. Anything to get the Furmans off my back.
“I’ll have a shot of tequila.” I give him a timid smile. Alex is not completely dumb, so I make sure not to overplay it, just enough for him to think that being in this place makes me feel a little off kilter.
“Tequila? You sure?”
“I could use some liquid courage,” I explain at his startled look.
It works. He gives me a nod and hurries off toward the bar. He’ll be back in no time.
While he’s away, I scour the area for the best place for my plan. The booths are too far from the main action and way too enclosed, and the middle of the dance floor is too crowded. I couldn’t quite do anythingat the bar because there would be too many judgmental eyes on us.
Finally, I pick a dark spot wedged between the sitting booths and the dance floor, secluded enough for some privacy, and open enough for people to spot us.
“Here.” Alex is back a few moments later, holding out a small glass.
I reach for it and down it, the fiery liquid catching me by surprise. It surges across my taste buds, setting off an unexpected explosion of intense flavor.
He looks amused, the miffed expression he’d had since he told me about his parents fading.
“So, you drink,” he says in surprise. “Thought you were going to chicken out at the last minute and ask for a Sprite.”
“Sometimes I do.” I shrug my shoulders and stare at him unapologetically.
Lesson learned from my dad: half the battle of getting people to do what you want is maintaining eye contact.
