Tom isn't wearing a costume. Unless his costume is guy who doesn't keep secrets. Maybe Miles took that one.
Tom drags me to the suddenly empty dance floor. Everyone has made room for the poor suckers in couples' costumes, apparently. There are two superheroes, a Buttercup and a Dread Pirate Roberts, and there's Miles, dressed as Han freaking Solo.
His pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. He wants me. Badly. I'm affecting him.
I have him under my thumb.
His lips curl into a smile. He offers his hand. "Princess."
I can't help but smile. There's no doubt in my mind—he's wearing that costume for me. He's letting other people see the nerdiness he usually keeps secret for me.
I take his hand. My smile spreads ear to ear. "Scoundrel."
He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close. A few people cheer. Tom scurries around, forcing more people together. I'm sure he's doing this at Kara's request, but I still don't like being this close to the spotlight.
The music is fast—a pop song I don't recognize. I can't keep up. But I don't have to.
Miles moves slow. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring my body closer to his. Whatever the circumstance, his arms feel nice. Better than nice. His arms make me feel better than anything ever has.
I'm fucked. There's no resisting the pull he has over my heart.
We dance for the entire song. Then it's over, and his arms are at his side. I mumble an excuse me and disappear into the crowd. Everyone around me is dancing or screaming or chanting shots! It's worse in the kitchen. A dozen people are crowded around a table, playing Kings Cup. I know some of them from school. But worse, they know me as that buzzkill girl who never drinks and never has any fun.
One of my classmates—I think her name is Sally—waves me over. "Hey, Meg, wanna play?"
"No thanks. I have uh…" I try to think up an excuse that won't end with someone asking why I'm not drinking.
"There you are." Miles slides his arms around my waist. He nods to my fellow students. "Sorry to drag Meg away from you, but I need her desperately."
Sally's face lights up with joy. Hell, the girl looks like she's about to wet herself. I nod, yes, obviously, I can't play your drinking game because I'm needed desperately by the hot rock star. See, I'm fun. I'm cool. I'm not a buzzkill.
Miles leads me outside. It's dark and cool, and he looks damn beautiful under the light of the moon.
He brushes my hair from my eyes.
I can see his breath, that bit of heat escaping his body. Hell, I can see right into his eyes. It doesn't tell me enough. I don't know what he's thinking.
"You're sober, aren't you?" I ask.
He nods.
"I think we're the only two sober people at this party."
"You looking for a ride home?" he asks.
"No." I move to the patio furniture. My backpack is still on the table. I sit next to it. "I don't know. Were you looking to get out of here?"
He sits next to me. "Soon. What about your friend?"
"She's fine. Drew cleared his room for her."
/> "His room or his bed?"
"You can't tell by his mood?"
Miles laughs. "I can, actually. He's not fucking her."
"Is he that obvious?"