“Maybe I’m getting sick.” I shrug. “I was tired, that’s all.”
He sniffs the air, narrowing his eyes at me. “Did you drink last night?”
Alright. Enough already.I’m just barely awake, and I’m in no mood for a fucking interrogation this morning before I’ve even had my coffee. “So what if I did?” I snap. “I might be your “possession,” but I can at least make my own decisions while I’m out. I thought that was the whole point of giving me a phone and a credit card.”
“As long as you don’t abuse it,” Cayde points out. “Someone could have drugged your drink—”
“I wasn’t alone,” I interrupt again. Fuck it, if he wants to punish me for interrupting, I’ll deal with that later. It might be noon, but it’s too early in the morning for this shit. “Jaxon was with me. Isn’t that enough?”
Cayde sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I didn’t come to fight with you, Athena. I came to tell you that Dean and I want to take you on a date tonight.”
I’m stunned into silence for a few full seconds, my eyes widening as I stare at him dumbfounded.
“You—what?” I manage, when I can finally speak again.
“A date,” Cayde says slowly as if I’m a little stupid. Normally I’d be pissed at him for talking to me that way, but in this particular moment, half awake and staring at him, Ifeela little stupid. “You know, that thing that guys do with girls they like—”
“Have you ever taken someone out on a date?” I blurt out. “Has Dean?” I can’t for the life of me picture either of them taking a girl to a movie theater, buying Milk Duds and popcorn, Cayde trying to get his arm around some girl’s shoulder without her complaining. These boys don’tdate; they take. They don’t have to court someone; they just demand—and sometimes, not even that. Why would they bother making a reservation for dinner when the girl is already bent over their bed, begging for it?
Cayde smirks. “No,” he admits. “Neither of us have. Which means it’s high time, don’t you think?”
I can’t wrap my head around it, why he’s suddenly decided this or what on earth has gotten into them, so finally, I just shrug, laughing. And once I start, I can’t seem to stop.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard, almost choking as I gasp for breath, the laughter coming from somewhere deep in my gut. I catch a glimpse of concern on Cayde’s face as I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to catch my breath and stop laughing long enough to respond.
When I finally manage to straighten again, he looks more disgruntled than anything else. “You done?” He narrows his eyes. “I could still change my mind.”
“No—” I shake my head, choking back more laughter. “No, it sounds fun. But I mean—why?”
Cayde watches me for a long moment. “Because we’re trying, Athena. We’re really fucking trying.” He pushes himself off of the doorjamb then, turning to walk back down the hall. “I’ll have Blair send up some food for you. Be ready to go by six. Wear something casual.”
“Oo-okay.” I watch him leave, arms still folded around my midsection.
I have absolutely no idea what we’re doing—and something about that is kind of exciting, to tell the truth. I don’t know why on earth Cayde and Dean have suddenly decided to take me out on a date, and part of me knows I should be suspicious, not excited. But at this particular moment, all I feel are butterflies.
Adate. I’ve never been on a date. When I went to the public high school, all the boys were either too afraid of the gang my father belonged to or me. They wouldn’t come near me with a ten-foot pole unless it was to mock me or make disgusting sexual comments that wound up getting them a skateboard to the face. At the prep school, Cayde made sure that I was persona non grata for all of my time there, after the incident in the library. And during the brief amount of time post-graduation before I ended up here, I was too busy helping my mother around the estate and thinking about my impending escape to college to really even consider dating.
And then, of course, I wound up in my bedroom here, under lock and key, the property of three men who had never done anything but torment me from the day I met them.
Now two of them are taking me out on my first ever date. After taking every virginity I have in a range of creative ways.
Everything in my life is so fucking backward.
It’s hard for me to focus on anything for the rest of the day. I do some of my homework, slogging through algebra and looking for sources for an English paper I have to write, wandering downstairs at one point for a sandwich. The house is quiet for a Saturday afternoon, and I wonder where the boys are, but I don’t go looking for them. I’ll be spending the evening with them anyway, and I’m torn between excitement and anxiety.
It’s an unseasonably but pleasantly warm night, so I throw on a pair of ripped denim shorts that cuff just below my ass, a black ribbed cotton crop top, and my Docs, with a black leather jacket if it gets chilly later. I have no earthly idea what we’re doing, and part of me hopes that it’s something simple, like going to a movie. What would Cayde or Dean’s idea of a “normal” date be? I honestly don’t have the slightest clue.
They’re both downstairs when I make my way down slightly before six. Cayde is in his usual joggers and a graphic tee, this time with a faded classic car on it. Dean is wearing tight, cuffed light jeans and a purposefully faded blue crew neck with a pocket—the most casual I’ve ever seen him. Cayde is always in sweatpants or joggers, but I’ve never seen Dean in anything but the school uniform, dress clothes, or nice jeans.
I can see the appreciation in both their faces as they look at me, their gazes sweeping over my shorts and cropped top that shows off my newly appearing baby abs, thanks to the workouts I’ve been throwing myself into.
Cayde slings an arm around my waist as Dean leads the way out of the house, bending so that his lips are near my ear as he speaks, his breath warming the shell of it. “You look hot,” he murmurs, and I feel a flush of pleasure wash over me.
Don’t let it go to your head,I remind myself, but I can’t stop the flutters of excitement in my stomach. Dean has pulled his Maserati around to the front of the house, and I can’t help but laugh as I see it. “This isn’t exactlycasual,” I say as Cayde opens the door for me to slide into the passenger’s seat.
“What, did you expect me to drive us somewhere in a Ford Focus?” Dean smirks. “This is as casual as I get, baby.”
The leather is warm and buttery soft against the underside of my thighs as I slip into the car, and I let out a sigh as Cayde gets into the car behind me, closing the door.