Page 16 of Every Move You Make

“What kind of thing?”

“Like a… date?”

“I don’t love that you’re unsure if it’s a date or not.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Okay, where are you going? What's his name? What's the vibe? Do you need a playlist? I’ll send you one. I’m also sending you a couple new dark romance book recs. There’s this one about a woman falling in love with her home security system, only to find out it’s monitored and voiced by a real man and not artificial intelligence.”

I laugh, “Top of the reading list it goes.”

“So who’s the guy?”

“His name is Dell, and we’re going to dinner at Nero’s.” Before my next words come out, Ang has already sent me a playlist calledSexy Getting Ready Mix.

“Thanks, girl.”

“You’re welcome! Now give me a fashion show.”

An hour later, I’m wearing a black, fitted thin-strap dress and heels, with gold earrings and red lips. It’s a look I’m comfortable in, but as Angie put it, I look like I invented the phrase “good boy.” And I think that’s going to help me tonight. I need to feel powerful and in control of myself. Ineed to guard against Dell’s charm and figure out how to flirt with Isaiah.

As I walk up to the restaurant, I check my phone and find the group chat blowing up.

Serwaa: Good luck tonight Birdie!

Khaos: $100 says it ends with a kiss

Skirt: Wait, I thought this was a practice date?

Serwaa: It is, but have you SEEN this man?

Serwaa:

Casshole: He makes our glutes look tiny

Khaos: I don’t understand why you need flirting help, Birdie. Just show guys your tits and they’ll be all over you!

Casshole: Khaos, that’s how YOU get girls

Khaos: And it works every time!

Serwaa: Keep your tits in Birdie

I start to type my reply, but I’m greeted by a familiar, low voice. “Hi.” When I look up, I’m momentarily paralyzed.Fuck, he looks good.His long blonde hair is down, which he never does, and he’s wearing a black, short-sleeve dress shirt with tiny white dots. His colorful tattoos with bold, clean lines only serve to increase my body temperature to an unbearable heat. Unable to stop my eyes or close mymouth, I take in his black jeans and well-worn… cowboy boots? Interesting. The silver bracelet he’s wearing pops against his exposed, tattooed forearms. Rugged and chic. What a delicious combo. I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s not like he was going to wear gym clothes or his work attire. But this… this is fascinating.

“Hhhhhi,” I breathe.

“You look beautiful, Robyn,” he says, leaning in close and placing a kiss on my cheek. Oh god, he smells like mint. And oh god, Dell Breaux just kissed me! It was chaste, and some would say friendly—European, even.

Oh no.I should reciprocate! That’s what Europeans do!

But I’ve waited too long, and right as he pulls away, I flinch and graze his lips with mine.

“Oh shit,” I huff out. “I’m sorry.” I rear back instantly, but I overdo it and fumble over my own heels. Dell reaches forward and grabs my waist to steady me before I make an even bigger ass of myself on the sidewalk.

“Okay,” he drawls. His eyes are wide, and the corners of his lips turn up. “This is not you.”

I push his hands off me. “I know,” I squeak. “See, this is what happens when I try to flirt—” I cut myself off before I accidentally add ‘with someone I like.’

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