Page 42 of The Misfit

“With sealed bottles only. And I already wiped everything down.”

“Three times?”

He laughs, low and warm. “Got there early and did it three times. Just for you.”

Something in my chest cracks open at that. At how well he knows me already. At how much effort he puts into making me feel safe.

“Okay.” The word comes out as barely a whisper.

“Okay?” His eyes light up with surprise.

“Three hours,” I say firmly. “Not a minute more.”

“Deal.” He kills the engine but doesn’t move to get out. “One more thing.”

“What?”

His hand slides up to my neck, his touch careful but sure. “Remember, we need to look convincing.”

Oh.

The kissing.

The part I wasn’t supposed to think about. It doesn’t matter, not really, since my brain short-circuits when his lips descend on mine. He tastes like mint and possibility. I don’t understand how, but I forget about the club, the crowd of people, the germs. All those things vanish in the wind.

Reality slowly funnels back in when he pulls back. His pupils are dilated, and his chest heaves as he breathes. “Ready now?”

I suck a ragged breath into my lungs and give him a quick nod. Fake. This is all fake—the kiss, his reaction, every smile and touch. It’s not real. He doesn’t want me, I tell myself—but my heart is already invested.

He wastes no time in rushing around the Jeep to open my door. I wish I had the same confidence he does. We go inside, skipping the line as the bouncer at the door gives Lee a jerk of his chin to allow us access.

Whoa. It must be nice to walk right into a place like that.Oh wait, shit. I just did.

My cheeks heat, my anxiety climbing higher as the bright lights, booming music, and scent of alcohol and sweat permeates the air. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong, but more than that, what if someone touches me? What if they see my gloves and laugh?

Lee gives my hand a squeeze as if he can sense my brain wandering to dark places.You can do this.Against my instincts, I let him guide me through the club while I tuck my head low and keep my gaze glued to the floor. I count each step we take and shut out my surroundings.

Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six.

I know we’ve reached the VIP section when Lee’s steps slow. I squint against the bright lights and take in my surroundings, the anxious boulder in my gut shrinking. The VIP section is better than expected—elevated above the crowd, with clear sightlines to all the exits.

Lee leans into my side, and his breath skates across my earlobe, making me shiver. “I’m going to assume that the smile on your face means you’re happy?”

Am I smiling?I didn’t even realize it. “I’m just surprised. You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Placing his hand on my lower back, he guides me up the stairs into the booth. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It’s beyond perfect.” My chest feels warm, my emotions turbulent. I’m not sure if he realizes how much this means to me. No one except my family goes out of their way to show this level of kindness and care. “Here.” He presents me with a sealed bottle of vodka, already using a sanitizing wipe on the cap. “Premium stuff. No one else’s lips have touched it.”

I watch him pour the bottles into clean glasses, trying not to focus on the writhing mass of bodies below. “That’s a lot,” I observe as he downs his second shot, both of them back to back.

“Liquid courage.” His smile is all white teeth, gleaming in the light. “For both of us.”

I guess that makes sense. We’re at a nightclub, and honestly, my nerves will be shot by the time we finish here. A little liquid courage could dull the edges of anxiety, and maybe I’ll enjoy myself instead of worrying profusely.

The music pulses through the space, making my ears throb. It’s sensory overload between the flashing lights and thundering bass. But as I look back at Lee and the clean bottle in his hand, I know I have to try. He’s done so much, too much for me not to at least sit down and have a drink with him.

The bottle is clean. His hands are clean. The glass is clean.

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