Page 105 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Ethan hummed thoughtfully. “So, if I got you drunk right now…”

I rolled my eyes. “Not the point.”

But he didn’t drop it. He stepped closer, and suddenly the noise around us felt distant, like it was just me and him in that ridiculous bar full of questionable creatures.

“Come on,” he coaxed, his voice playful but strangely soft. “Do it for me. For the sake of my birthday.”

Of course he played that card. Damn him—he knew it would work.

I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fine. One dance. And if you embarrass me, I will find a way to make you regret it.”

Ethan grinned like he had just won the lottery. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before I could process it, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the dance floor. The moment we stepped into the thick of the crowd, the beat changed—louder, heavier, making the floor vibrate beneath our feet.

Ethan placed his hands on my waist, confident and steady. The contact was surprisingly warm. I stiffened, hyper-aware of every movement.

“Relax,” he said, his breath brushing against my ear as he leaned in. “You’re making this weird.”

“I am weird,” I shot back.

He laughed, and it was such an Ethan sound—light and easy, like nothing ever bothered him.

Slowly, cautiously, I followed his lead, moving stiffly at first. But then the rhythm took over, the music guiding our steps. The flashing lights blurred the edges of everything, and for a fleeting moment, it didn’t feel like we were sneaking into a bar with fake beards and borrowed clothes. It didn’t feel like we were breaking rules or running from anything.

It just felt… like us.

And I hated it.

I hated the way he made it look so easy. I hated that I didn’t hate it as much as I should have.

Because Ethan was a demon.

And I knew what demons were capable of.

A cold weight settled in my chest. My hands, which had unknowingly rested on his shoulders, suddenly felt like they were burning. His touch suddenly felt real—way too real. The realization slammed into me like a punch to the gut.

What the hell was I doing?

No.

I yanked my hands away from him like I had been burned.

“No.”

Ethan’s grin faltered. “Clark—?”

“No.” My voice was harsher this time, more forceful. I stepped back, shaking my head. I couldn’t do this. I shouldn’t have been doing this.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything was pressing in, suffocating.

I didn’t wait for Ethan to say anything else. I turned and pushed through the crowd, my heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to think about.

I needed air.

I needed to get out of there. Away from the noise. Away from him.

Then, Ethan grabbed my wrist so suddenly that I almost tripped forward. His fingers dug into my skin, his grip firm and urgent.

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