Page 12 of Selfie

“That’s a beautiful watch,” I say, carefully watching his reaction.

He tugs his cuff down, covering it up. “Thank you. I like your—” He stops midsentence, and noticeably surveys my ears, thenwrist. He must be looking for jewelry to compliment, except I’m not wearing any. “Lips,” he finally says.

Nice save.

The silent lull between us is quickly filled by a drunken slur over the loudspeaker. At first, it seems like someone’s grabbed a mic from the stage and is trying to cause a scene. A verse or two later of butchered lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “Cruel Summer” and I realize karaoke has commenced.

Nate and I wear matching horrified expressions. “Wow,” I say, resisting the urge to cover my ears. “At least some people are cheering.”

“I don’t think we’re as drunk as they are.”

I laugh. “I haven’t had anything to drink. Can’t get the bartender to pay attention to me.” I glance over my shoulder at the man in all black, still tending to the mob.

“Pull your dress down again. That might help our case.” Nate winks at me, sending a quick tremor up my spine. I feel a little guilty for enjoying this. Jesse and I just broke up. But unforgivable lines were crossed. Trust was broken. We’re done. How much longer do I have to mourn the death of our relationship?

I bat my eyelashes. “My breasts are safely tucked away. We’ll have to think of something else.”

He leans in close, and a whisper of his cologne envelops me. There’s a hint of citrus, sweetening the smell of earth and musk. I’m lost for a moment. I don’t know what the hell that scent is, but it’s…it’s…beguiling.

“I have bottle service at my table,” he says in a husky voice.

“Then why are you slumming it at the bar with us common folk?”

He lifts his brows. “Why do you think?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to lead you on. There’s no way in hell I’m going home with you. I came with my sister. I’m leaving with her too.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. I only offered you a drink.”

“That’s it?” I ask skeptically, folding my arms.

“That’s it.”

“Why waste your money on a girl who won’t sleep with you?”

I hope the grin on his face means he appreciates my candidness. He pops his shoulders with nonchalance. “Because I have money to waste.”

Cocky.Or maybe,honest? I don’t know but my curiosity has me in a choke hold, so when he offers his hand, I take it. “Just one drink.” But I think I’m warning myself more than him.

Nate cups his hand with mine in what can only be described as platonically. It’s the way a security guard would guide a celebrity to a table—just gentlemanly. By the time we get to the velvet rope blocking his circular booth, I’m concerned his ulterior motives have nothing to do with sex and instead I’m going to meet a gory end before he stores the pieces of my body in a chest freezer locked in his basement.

He unhooks the rope and gestures for me to slide into the booth, but my feet stay planted.

“Did you change your mind?” he asks casually.

“You’re not a serial killer, right?”

He wets his lips before showing me a mischievous grin. “If I was, do you really think I’d tell you?”

I tilt my head like a puppy that just heard,walk? “I suppose, if you were a sloppy killer.”

“Sloppy is not my style.”

“So you’re either a killer and a skilled liar. Or, you’re luring me into a false sense of security and sex really is your endgame.” He opens his mouth, but I hold up my pointer finger indicating I’m not done. “Or, you’re actually a nice guy and I’ve officiallywatched too muchDatelinewhich is why I live in a constant state of paranoia.”

“You done?”

“Yes.”

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