Page 69 of Detention with Daddies

His smile is devious, and I know I’m in trouble tonight. Waylen takes my hand and escorts me out to his sleek, black car. It’s a sports car, although I couldn’t tell you what kind it is.

When he hands me down into my seat, I feel like a posh socialite. Like one of those girls who stumbles into a billionaire romance novel. That’s not what this is, but I can appreciate the vibes, right?

Especially when Waylen slides behind the wheel and waggles his brows at me. We take off fast, and I let out a squeal of delight. The university isn’t far from Shawna’s apartment, but I warm to him when we’re at a light and he tentatively puts his hand on my knee.

His palm is hot on my skin, nearly searing me with desires I’ve been quelling. I’m aware of it for the entirety of the seven-minute drive.

Waylen opens my door and helps me out, which earns me his arm around my waist to keep me steady. We share a small laugh, remembering the way it feels when we’re pressed together. Alone.

I step back a little and smooth one of the curls from his forehead, tucking it back in place. My fingers find his collar next, straightening it and his tie to ensure he’s pristine.

Happiness flares in his eyes. Like pure joy at the little details I’m focused on.

Is it because it symbolizes my care? It’s such a small thing.

Waylen takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm as he escorts me into the main ballroom of the student center. It’s done up beautifully in golds and reds, our university colors. Round tables start in a circle around a dance floor. A small stage up front for speeches and the auction.

The room is already half full with people. I don’t recognize most of them, but I spot a few teachers and students from the program. A few of the staff from the center.

My grip on Waylen tightens when I spot Nick across the room. He’s in a tight blue tux that matches his eyes, which I catch as Waylen walks me to a table with our names on it. Nick is in professor mode, as I like to call it. Giving nothing away, especially at a distance.

Waylen turns me back to him. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. Nothing too strong. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“You won’t.”

I smile and hold onto the back of my chair. I don’t want to sit yet. I’m too nervous. It gets worse when I spot Matteo too.

I should have known they would be here. It only makes sense. And I’m trying not to be nervous about it. Especially since neither of them have another woman on their arms.

Well, shit.

As long as nothing gets too personal, everything should be fine. Right? It’s not like I’ve promised any of them exclusivity.

It’s not like any of them have even asked.

I avoid looking at anyone in particular until Waylen returns. He hands me a flute of champagne with a slice of strawberry in it, and I smile at him. Very romantic.

His arm comes around my waist as a couple approaches. Someone that knows Waylen to be sure. He shakes their hands.

“Richard, Theresa, this is Olivia. She’s working on her thesis with us, running her own experiment in the center.” I note thathe doesn’t call mehisstudent. Naughty man. I get it though. “Something I’m fully behind.”

Ah, time for the professional wooing to begin. I explain my project, putting both a personal and professional spin on it that I’d practiced all week. I watch their interest bloom, shifting away from the indifference I usually get from people.

The same thing happens with the next group Waylen introduces me to. And the next.

I feel like I’m making headway. People are getting it. They’re interested. They’re asking the right questions.

This is going way better than I ever imagined.

“And I might also like to use my results to offer a new perspective for the doctors who try to blame everything on our fat in order to not have to deal with or treat us properly.” When I finish my initial spiel, one of a group of four men looks me up and down.

It tightens my muscles.

“How is anyone supposed to take your findings seriously when this is an obvious passion project stemming from a chip on your fat shoulders?” The twist of his mouth makes me stiffen further.

This is exactly what I’m combating, and I’m ready to show him my recent results from the blood test that Waylen performed. But I don’t have to say anything.

---