Page 60 of Not Dating Material

Technically I’m supposed to be acting like I would with any other man I’m dating, and if he was my actual, real-life boyfriend, oh, swoooon.

I send heart eyes across the tiny drinks table to him, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy gazing out at the crowded dance floor of the club Elle has brought us to. It’s dark, with neon flashing lights and music that pounds a steady rhythm in my ears. The VIP section is above the dance floor, with a full view of the club, and has waiters in assless chaps bringing us our drinks. I try not to ogle the men, but some of those butts are delicious.

I could only imagine how Seven would look in those pants. Instead of keeping that thought to myself, I pull out my phone and text him.

Me:

Exactly how much money would I have to bribe you with to get you into a pair of those pants?

Seven:

Nothing, actually. I have a pair at home.

My eyes almost fly from my skull. I glance over at him again, mouth hanging open, and Seven laughs.

Seven:

Your expression is hilarious right now.

Me:

Mean! I was already picturing how to get you into them once we’re home.

Seven:

First time a man’s ever wanted to get me INTO pants. Normally the aim is to get me out of them.

Me:

Are you saying that’s a possibility?

Seven stamps down a smile at that message, but instead of replying, he locks his phone and tucks it back into his pocket.

My jaw drops, and I send through a steady stream of messages.

Me:

Rude!

First of all, how very dare you?

Second, why you gotta be so mean?

Don’t you love me?

Pay me attention, dammit!

I know his phone is going off, but he ignores it, and the expression he’s wearing makes me wonder if he’s challenging me to call him on it.

Well, he doesn’t know Molly Gibson.

I huff and turn toward Darcy. “Hey, person I’ve never met before tonight.”

“Perhaps I misread the dinner, but that could be a few of us, right?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’ve heard of Elle, Émile, and Christian before. Hard not to with the way they all live in each other’s pockets.”

“That’s true. But it’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

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