Page 63 of Brazen Deceits

“I’m playacting your muse Walker, not your winter coat.Misplaced.”

A belly laugh ripples from him, and for once the muse and I are in agreement as we skip, grinning down the steps and out into the chilly sun.

Chapter 28

Clara

Downing a few ibuprofen might help with the ache of being on my feet all day, but only time will tell.

Walker deemed delivery pizza acceptable after I begged not to go anywhere else before we hit up the clubs. He did, however, order from the fanciest Chicago-style pizza place he could find. I gobbled up my concoction of mandarin oranges and a sweet and spicy sauce. It was delectable, even if Walker wouldn’t try a single bite.

I finish massaging my right foot, moving to the left as a knock sounds on the door. I look at Walker, confused, but he hops right up, his phone in one hand. “Just a delivery.”

In that case, I’d better keep working on making my feet ready for dancing.

The door clicks shut, no one saying anything, and the bed dips next to me. I lean into Walker, but the scent is all wrong—citrus and sage. I whip around and find RJ grinningat me. Some of the muse must still be in my system because I tackle him to the bed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “RJ! What are you doing here?”

His hands flutter from my shoulders to my rib cage, finally settling on my waist. “Walker needed something delivered, and I figured you both would appreciate the white-glove service.”

I squeeze him tight before rolling off him and sitting up, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he already is. He joins me on the side of the bed and drags me into his lap, linking his fingers through mine. Apparently, a visit from the muse wasn’t remiss.

Walker takes the spot on the bed I just abandoned. “I expected you to mail it, not drive across an entire state and then some.”

RJ chuckles. “Did you think we forgot about your birthday? You’re not getting out if it that easily. You know if Jansen could even possibly get here, he’d have you covered in waxy chocolate cake and booze exactly at midnight.”

I untwine one hand and reach for Walker. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything? Drinks are on me, for sure.”

Walker brushes his lips to mine, pressing our palms together. “It’s tomorrow, and it’s not a big deal.”

I look back at RJ, worried about being this open about affection with Walker while sitting in his lap, but he looks…pleased? “Is it not a big deal, RJ?”

He shakes his head, eyes glittering. “Walker has a thing about pretending he doesn’t need a birthday party. He even slipped it past us freshman year. When Jansen found out, man, he was so mad.”

Walker flops backonto the mattress. “He set up a surprise party for me three months late. Obviously, I was surprised.”

I laugh, RJ joining me. “So what are we doing? Are we celebrating tonight? Is anyone else coming?” I ask.

Walker just shakes his head, not moving from the bed. “No plans besides the ones we already had.”

“Do you love clubbing so much that you want to do it on your…twenty-second birthday?”

“Yeah, I’m twenty-two tomorrow. And we already did what I love most for my birthday.” Heat simmers between us as I remember last night, our eyes locked, but then he forces his gaze from mine, breaking the spell. “And we’re doing it again tomorrow. So much art, even I might get sick of it.” Burn, dude.

RJ’s hand braces around my stomach, and butterflies burst to life in my chest. “No way you’d get tired of museums, Walker. And despite Jansen’s yodeling, Trips is heading down to Kansas City now that he and I finished up our bare-bones poker game last night. They’re going to clean up that lead, leaving the three of us to ring in your big day.”

I wiggle out of RJ’s lap, pressing another kiss to his cheek in apology. “We have booze. Let’s get this party started!” Maybe that will fix some of the weird tension Walker’s oozing out right now. Things were good after last night, they’ve been great all day. I need to keep it going.

Hurrying to the kitchen, RJ—and eventually Walker—follow me as I pick out a clubbing warm-up playlist and pull out the ingredients Walker got yesterday. It’s time for a pregame party. I make everyone a cocktail, black cherry juice and vodka, with a dash of triple sec. Even at a random liquorstore in downtown Chicago, Walker pieces together something bougie.

Two drinks each and a bus ride later, we’re standing outside of one of the swankest clubs I’ve seen. Everyone is wearing the classy version of clubbing clothes, tight dresses and nice shoes, all peek-a-boo appeal barely hiding the truth—everyone’s here to get laid.

Pulling together a club-worthy outfit on short notice was a challenge, but I stole one of Walker’s new button-ups, a purple one, and paired it with a belt. Then I rolled up the sleeves, unbuttoned it just enough for my lacy black bra to show, tossed on killer heels, and I felt sexy as fuck. Looking at these other women, though, I realize I’m a lot more gutter than the rest of them.

RJ pulls my hand from where my fingers are drumming against my thigh, kissing the back of my hand like a gentleman. “You’re delectible.”

I swallow, glancing around the crowd again. “You guys, are you sure this place is eighteen-plus?”

Walker smirks at me, slipping an arm around my waist. “I’m sure it’s not.”

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