Page 25 of Out of the Dark

"Well, just so you know what to expect, there willprobably be a couple dozen people at this one and a decent amount of drinking, but don’t feel pressured to drink if you don’t want to."

I’m sure he’s thinking of Christmas Eve when we both opened up, at least a little, over a few too many drinks. "Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. I hope the dress I got is okay," I say, more to myself than to him. The more I think about wearing it in front of Mark and a whole group of strangers, the more stressed I feel. What if it’s too much? I’ll be mortified if I show up to a party as the least modest person there after overcorrecting my wardrobe to an extreme.

Dressing in anything modern is so far outside of my wheelhouse that I have no idea what fits these "normal" occasions.

"I’m sure you’ll look wonderful," Mark says, but I know he’s just saying that to calm me down. He hasn’t even seen my dress yet.

"Thank you."I can only hope so.

The afternoon drags by, but after Mark and I eat an early dinner, I head back to my room to get dressed for the evening. It’s not like it will take long, but sitting around any longer with this nervous energy would have driven me insane.

I pull the tags off the dress and slide the silky fabric up my legs before slipping my arms through the straps. The material is a shiny, silvery light blue, and it hugs my body in a way I’m not used to. I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything this revealing, but I know enough to recognize that it’s still somewhat tasteful, even if my mother would tell me I look like a harlot right now.

I do my best to push the ingrained judgmental voice out of my head, and I run a brush through my hair, not knowingwhat else to do with it. A braid would look silly, but I don’t have anything else to style it, so I just leave it down.

My small heels are the last thing to manage, and it takes me a couple minutes to get the thin straps buckled in the right place.

As I stand, my stomach is flip-flopping with jitters. I feel exposed, but not necessarily in a bad way. My arms are bare aside from the delicate straps on my shoulders, and I can’t hide behind layers of loose clothing like I normally do.

Yet somehow, the feeling of being dressed up and exposed in this unfamiliar way is almost…exhilarating?

The moment I step into the living room, Mark’s gaze zeroes in on me, and I stand there shifting on my feet as his eyes seem to consume every inch of my body.

"Well? What do you think?" I give him an awkward smile and twirl, trying to defuse the tension that has suddenly filled the room.

Mark stands wordlessly, his expression unreadable, and takes slow, deliberate steps toward me before stopping just short of where I stand. All the air leaves my lungs as he reaches up and brushes my hair back over my shoulder, his fingertips barely grazing the exposed skin of my neck. He’s so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his chest as I stare up at him, my lips parted slightly in surprise.

"You lookbreathtaking," he murmurs. There’s a sincerity and vulnerability in his gaze that’s not normally present, but he seems to realize that the same moment I do. He clears his throat, moves a step backward to put space between us, and takes a deep breath.

"Alright, I’ll grab our coats and then we can head out." His tone is friendly, almost businesslike, a stark contrast to the intimate way he spoke to me just seconds ago.

"Oh, okay."Did I do something wrong?

He reappears a moment later with his coat on and mine draped over his arm. When I reach out my hand to take it, he shakes his head before lifting my coat by the shoulders and holding it open for me. I give him a soft smile and slip my arms into the sleeves, noting how he’s careful not to touch me.

I probably look so unrecognizable in a pretty dress that he forgot it was me for a moment. Touching a pretty girl is surely something he’s familiar with, but intentionally touching the needy, down-on-her-luck Claire? Yeah, right.

I try to force the thought from my head as we make our way down the elevator to the front door of the building. Mark had announced earlier that we’d take an Uber tonight instead of either of us driving, which I’m perfectly fine with.

He’s abnormally quiet as he watches his phone while we stand near the large glass doors at the entrance of the building, and I fiddle with the buttons on my coat to give myself something to do. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut, and I’m not sure why. Because I’m disappointed he didn’t follow through earlier with whatever he was starting? Because when he came to his senses after a few seconds, he couldn’t get away fast enough? Even now, he’s not making eye contact or joking about something like he normally does.

He’s just so confusing. Or maybe I’m just misreading things. I certainly don’t expect him to fall in love with me—the thought of Mark loving someone like me is laughable even to my overly romantic self—but he could at least be consistent.

Is he interested, or is he not?

"Car’s here." Mark holds the door for me as we step out into the freezing night air, and I slide into the backseat of the white sedan that’s idling at the curb.

The entire drive, I stare out the window, and Mark doesn’t say a word.

Mark wasn’t lying when he said his best friend was a billionaire. We arrive at the penthouse in the middle of the city much earlier than anticipated, and when we step through the door, I can’t seem to find the right words to express how impressed I am. It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from hanging.

Eventually, I manage to say, "You have a beautiful home," so I don’t make a total fool of myself the first time meeting Mark’s friends.

"Thank you." Shane flashes me a genuine smile, introduces himself, and offers to take our coats. I shrug out of mine and hand it to him. "I’ll go tell Dani you guys are here. She’s still getting ready, but she’ll be so excited to meet you."

That should make me feel better, but it only ratchets up my nerves. How much do they know about me? What has Mark told them? And why would she be excited to meet me?

Mark’s stare burns into my side, but I resist the urge to make eye contact.

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