I wanted to take back the word real, because whatever had happened between us, on those two experimental dates or even at the Masquerade Ball, hadn’t been faked, forced, or not real in any way. But I’d used it, because if she wanted real dates with other men, who was I to stop her?
But Rosie didn’t seem to mind my use of the word and I’d be lying if I said that that didn’t sting. “Maybe I want the real thing. Not with Aiden, but maybe I want the real dates.”
Of course, she did.
And that felt like a sucker punch to the gut.
Could I even give her that? No, I couldn’t when I was leaving. I wanted to give her things I didn’t have.
Something must have changed in my expression because her brows furrowed in confusion. “The three experimental dates we’ve gone on have been more than I could have asked for.”
“Two dates.” I carefully placed a hand at the small of her back and resumed walking. “We’ve only gone on two, Ro.”
“I thought we were counting the masquerade as one.”
I retracted my arm, readjusting the strap of her laptop bag on my shoulder just so I wouldn’t do something stupid. Or reckless. “Why? I didn’t plan anything. In fact, I didn’t do a single thing.”
Phase three. Infatuation. Intimacy. Seduction. I remembered those three points perfectly. I’d been thinking about them a lot.
“You did, Lucas,” she said, returning her gaze to the sidewalk ahead of us. “In phase three, the physical connection takes the wheel. The infatuation becomes tangible, a breathing living thing between the two… parties. It’s about breaking that barrier that holds you back and letting go. See if that person pulls you in enough to want to move things forward. Let them progress into physical intimacy.”
“I see.” I didn’t just see; I felt it in my pulse. I felt it drum in my body.
Rosie chuckled and it was soft and self-conscious. “I don’t think I’d ever been properly seduced,” she told me, as if that wasn’t supposed to make me want to howl at the moon like a lunatic. What the hell was wrong with me? She continued, “Like, sure, all men I’ve dated have said or done things to get in my panties. Successfully, I may add.” And that didn’t do anything to appease the beast, if my knuckles turning white around the bag were anything to go by. “But never, like, you know. What happened.”
What happened.
Before I knew what I was doing, I had come to a stop again. “Rosie—”
“I don’t want to make this weird,” she said, stopping a step ahead of me. “Because I’m sure it was like a lapse in judgment or whatever.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I mean, I literally had to force you to look at me. But it still counts. Research is research.”
That was what she thought?
“Force me?” I spat out, stepping in her direction. “You think you had to force me to look at you? In the name of research?”
“You don’t have to explain anything. And I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, either.”
My teeth ground. My disbelief turned to frustration, because how could she ever think that I—
“Rosie,” I said, making sure I was coming as close as possible to her without touching her. Because if I did, I knew it’d be game over for me. “If we weren’t friends,” I told her, voice like gravel. “Good friends like we are, best friends”—I watched her eyelids flutter shut—“I would take you somewhere dark and rip your clothes off with my teeth without caring to have a good reason. Just so I could see you, have you to myself.”
Rosie’s lips parted, and when her tongue came out and wet her lips, it almost became physically impossible for me to hold back any longer. God, I wanted to touch her, lick her, kiss her everywhere.
I stepped away in a brisk motion. Then I moved forward again, and as if compelled, I grabbed her hand.
“Count the Halloween party as an experimental date if you like,” I told her, leading her forward with me. “But we shook on four. We agreed four dates.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“So, I already planned for the next one,” I continued. “I was going to tell you to keep your schedule free on Thursday.” I remembered Aiden Castillo’s great news. “Or if you want to pack on Thursday, I can help you and we could postpone. I guess—”
“No,” she finally said, and the way that word left her mouth made me look over at her. “Thursday night is okay. It’s a date.”