Page 274 of Filthy Elites

“I can’t do that, Dare,” I text back. “I know last night crossed a line, but I didn’t MEAN to cross it, I just… I got caught up. I can’t make plans to knowingly do something like that.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because it’s wrong. You’re not mine. You’re not even single with the possibility of maybe someday being mine. You’re in a relationship with someone else, and I don’t want to be with someone who will cheat on me anyway.”

I type all that, but I don’t push send.

I stare at the message, a knot forming in my stomach as I reread it.

I can’t send that.

It’s the truth, though. A truth I don’t want to even think about.

If he’ll do it to her, he would do it to me.

Not that him being mine is even an option. He’s clearly interested in something on the side with me, but it doesn’t seem like he has any plans to actually leave her.

I’m not going to be that person.

Erasing that text, I try again. “You know what went down with my dad, and how much I don’t respect him and the woman he left us for. I can’t do that to somebody, even Anae.”

“This is not remotely that situation,” he sends back. “I am not married, and the only illness Anae has is narcissism. It’s not fatal.”

“I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Let me come over. We don’t have to do anything sexual, I just want to talk. You told me about your parents’ divorce, but I never got to tell you about mine. Besides, I owe you $300. I’ll bring it with me tonight.”

My brain tells me it’s a bad idea, but my damned fool heart is on his side. Iwanthim to come over, I just don’t want to be a bad person.

He says it won’t be sexual, though, so maybe it could be okay.

Just because I don’t want to be his mistress doesn’t mean I don’t want to be his friend. Talking about family stuff is hardly romantic, and hedoesowe me that $300…

“Okay,” I type back. “Mom should be in bed around 10:30. Is that too late?”

“Nope. That’s perfect. I’ll see you then.”

___

It’s 10:35.I’m standing outside my house, waiting for Dare to get here.

I guess I’m panicking a little, too. I’ve never snuck a boy over in the middle of the night before. I put Mom to bed about 20 minutes ago, but she might not be asleep yet.

What if she hears him come in?

I feel guilty, and I know that means he shouldn’t be here.

Just as I’m thinking about texting him and chickening out, his matte black car comes creeping up the road and turns into my driveway.

He’s here.

My heart fills up at the mere sight of his car. I can’t see him through the tinted windows, but as soon as he climbs out in a comfy hoodie and jeans, I want to hug him.

Friends hug, right?

It’s too murky. I tamp down the instinct and offer a friendly smile instead. “Hey.”

He closes the car door and engages the locks before sauntering over to me, a smirk on his handsome face. “Hey back.”

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