Page 66 of Set on You

SCOTT:Wow. I’m hurt you’re so quick to say yes to him and not me.

CRYSTAL:What can I say? I like wizards.

SCOTT:I should have had him do my bidding weeks ago.

CRYSTAL:What do I wear?

SCOTT:Something nice. Don’t worry, next time I’ll bring you somewhere you can wear your leggings.

CRYSTAL:Damn, you’re already banking on there being a next time? What if I’m super boring? Or weird?

SCOTT:I’m boring too. And I already know you’re weird.

CRYSTAL:What if I chew with my mouth open? Or talk during important movie scenes? Or spend too much money?

SCOTT:All tolerable.

CRYSTAL:What if I have a needle fetish?

SCOTT:No comment.

•••

“WHERE ARE WEgoing?” I ask, adjusting the hem of my floral sundress.

Scott is taking me on what he’s been calling a “top secret” date all day. As cute as it is, the anticipation is killing me. I’ve never beenone for the element of surprise. I’m one of those people who read every movie spoiler. I always know who’s going to winThe Bachelor, thanks to Reality Steve.

“Just wait for it.” Scott flashes me his mesmerizing smile, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the center console. It’s readily accessible, purely to taunt me.

At one point, I try to grab his hand. But he promptly bats me away, flashing me an intoxicating wink, reminding me of theno touchingrule. As thankful as I am for Scott’s efforts, I’m like a child who’s been told they can’t have the candy right in front of them. I want to test his limits.

I fight to suppress nature’s urges as we drive through a relatively newer suburban neighborhood toward an area with brand-new custom builds.

I stare at the homes in awe, stifling my amusement. “Did you bring me here to creep in the windows?” I’d passively mentioned how curious I was to see what these homes looked like on the inside a couple weeks ago on our way back from dinner with my parents.

He gives me a throaty laugh. “Yup.”

“This is officially my favorite date ever,” I tell him as he pulls to the shoulder of the road.

“Ever?”

“I think so.”

“You’re such an oddball,” he says through a massive grin.

I attempt to channel the picture of tranquility as we walk side by side, shoulders grazing ever so slightly. We journey down the not-yet-paved dirt road, past some of the gorgeous Craftsman homes that appear to be complete, at least on the exterior.

“I love these homes. I just wish I could see inside,” I lament.

He nods toward one of the largest homes in the cul-de-sac. “Let’s go in.”

I stop in the middle of the road. “We can’t justgo in.”

“Since when are you against trespassing in places you’re not supposed to be? You have no issues with changing rooms.” He gives me a wry smile. “And I bet they aren’t even locked.”

I take a quick glance around. There’s not a soul in sight, given the houses aren’t yet occupied. Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead trespassing on private property, but Scott’s cult-leader-level charisma makes me want to drink all his Kool-Aid and bend some rules.

We jog up the steps to the front door. It’s locked. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I’m about to run back to the street when he continues around the back of the house. Before I can even yell at him to give it up, he’s managed to pry open the basement window. His lips tug upward in defiance. “Come on.”

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