After leaving Daire’s office, I called into the shop and told Britt I wouldn’t be back for the rest of the afternoon. If I’m going to treat this like a real date, then I need to prepare for the occasion. Which means a new dress. 

It’s hard not to think about Daire’s reaction when I pick it out. I know he loves little black dresses. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the way his eyes lit up in the dressing room that day. I’m not deluded enough to believe it was me. Sometimes, guys just have a thing. Stilettos, lacey panties, red lipstick. Daire’s just happens to be little black dresses. And I’m sure he’s seen more than his fair share of them on his bedroom floor. It’s hard not to wonder if I’ll measure up to the rest of them.  It’s a silly notion when I already know I don’t. 

We’ve already established that Daire doesn’t see me that way, and that’s for the best. I don’t know why I care who he dates or what I look like in comparison. As usual, I’m overcomplicating something that should be quite simple.

As it turns out though, you can find the perfect little black dress for under fifty bucks. I buy a pair of red pumps at the sales woman’s insistence. She tells me they make my legs look freaking amazing.

And I want my legs to look freaking amazing. I want my date to feel something when he looks at me, and I’m not entirely sure if that’s a blanket statement, or it only really applies to Daire. 

I spend time on my hair and my makeup. Pinterest tutorials are not for the faint of heart, and when I’m finished I’m fairly certain mine looks like the after picture that usually gets turned into a meme. But I don’t let it discourage me. I practice what I'm going to say. I research interesting topics of conversation. And then I have several panic attacks all before seven o'clock. This feels like a real date, and I don't know why.

It's just Daire.

But that thing he said about acting like strangers? I can't get it out of my head. It scares me and excites me. There have been so many times that I wished we could just erase our history. That we could forget every bad thing that has ever stained our lives. If only life was that easy.

When Daire sends a car for me, I’m surprised to see he's in the backseat, waiting for me. There’s a single rose in his hand, but not just any rose. It’s a chocolate rose.

It's sweet and simple and so unlike Daire.

"You look good enough to eat.” He gives me a wicked smile.

"Thank you," I whisper. "So do you. I mean... you look good, too."

The car ride is quiet but comfortable. He takes me to Trattoria No. 10 this time, and when we step inside, it’s like all my dreams have come true. It smells like fresh bread and roasted garlic, and I am such a sucker for carbs. He knows I love Italian and he isn’t playing fair. It's intimate and romantic, and the waiter doesn’t know him by name here. But he gives us a private table in the corner anyway because Daire looks like the kind of guy you give a private table to. I order prosecco and gnocchi, and Daire opts for a strip steak and water. Then it's just the two of us, bathed in soft candlelight.

We aren’t the only presence at the table tonight. There’s a riot of tension between us. The pressure to forget everything and play our respective roles is at the forefront of my mind, but Daire seems to be doing just fine. He’s staring at me. Really staring at me. I cross my legs, and he notices. He notices everything. And he's never been so attuned to me. Has he?

There are too many variables in this scenario that I don’t know how to handle, so I focus on the list I made before I came here. "Want to play a game?"

Daire drums his fingers over the table. "What did you have in mind?"

"An icebreaker of sorts. I ask a random question, and we both answer. Then it's your turn. But it can't be any of the normal, boring questions."

He gives me a crisp smile, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the last time we were at dinner. He told me I was boring and quiet and a lot of other things that hurt, but I took them to heart, and I want to show him I’ve learned.

“You don’t ask boring questions, Lola.” He sounds apologetic. And this is a rare glimpse of the Daire that I first met. The one who didn’t intentionally use his defense mechanisms to alienate everyone. Back then, there were still occasions when I could see his vulnerability. It hasn’t happened in years though.

He’s different when he’s like this. When we’re pretending. He looks incredibly hot, in fact, and I have to remind myself that this is Daire. Ryan’s brother. The guy who doesn’t feel anything for anyone. The one who never lets anyone get too close. The guy who broke my heart once before.

"Would you like me to go first?" he asks. And I almost forgot about the game entirely.

"Yes."

He doesn't even have to think. It's only after the fact that I realize this is what Daire does for a living, and I'm out of my league.

"Tell me something that you thought was cool as a kid, but you're ashamed to admit now."

"Oh." My cheeks burn, and I know he's going to remember this. "JTT. He was like all the rage."

He smirks. And I wonder if he remembers the giant poster I had on my wall. He saw it when he brought me home once after Ryan insisted I play drinking games with him. Unfortunately, Ryan passed out, and I was sick as a dog and that only left Daire to get me home. I was mortified when he saw how girlish my bedroom was at the time. He never said a word then, and he doesn’t now because we're supposed to be strangers.

It’s different talking with Daire in this way. It feels lighter. Easier.

"What about you?" I ask.

"Parachute pants."

I forget my sense of decorum, and when I laugh, it's too loud. There are a couple stares from the tables around us, but Daire doesn't seem to care because he's actually smiling.

"Yes, I owned a pair. Or several. And I rocked them, FYI."

"I bet you did.”

It's my turn, and I try to think of an equally good question.

"What TV superhero would you be?"

Again, he doesn't even have to think about it. "The Hulk."

"Because of the temper?"

"Ladies love the hulk."

I roll my eyes. "No, I think they love Iron Man."

He shrugs. "What about you? Who would you be?"

"Jessica Jones," I answer. "She kicks ass."

He nods in agreement. "That she does."

Dinner comes, and we eat slowly. The game continues. I laugh more than I've ever laughed in... forever. I’m caught up in the moment. Daire is so relaxed, and I wonder if this is how he is around people he doesn’t hate.

We stay late, and I drink too many glasses of wine. More than I usually would, but my defenses are down, and I’m having an oddly good time. "Best memory?" I ask him.

He tells me about the summer he spent almost every night at the beach. And I remember that summer, because I was there, watching Ryan slowly fall apart. I wonder if I’m in any of those memories of his, but I don't dare ask.

"Worst memory?" Daire questions.

Like a cloud, sobering reality settles over both of us. He regrets asking the minute it's out of his mouth. And I can't lie on this one. I can't pretend.

"I think you already know that one."

He nods and reaches for the check. "You want to get out of here?"

"Yes."

He guides me outside with his hand on my lower back. Something Daire has never, ever done. Reason would dictate that it’s because he knows I’m a little tipsy. But when we get in the car, he feels closer than usual. His arm is against mine, and he’s warm. He smells even better than I thought he did the other day and I’m having thoughts that I have no right to think.

This is the part where he drops me off at home, and I’m struck by the realization that isn’t what I want. The driver asks for instructions, and Daire tells him to take us to his building. I don't ask why, and I don’t care either. The thing about Daire is that we might not get along but if there’s one thing I know for certain it’s that I can trust him. It’s a complete contradiction to everything that I should feel about him, but I know that whenever I’m with him, I’m safe.

The doorman greets us with a polite nod and calls for an elevator. When it arrives, Daire ushers me inside and enters a code before pressing the button. The ride takes us all the way to the top of the building, Daire’s kingdom in the sky. It isn’t a place that I’m familiar with. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never been to his apartment. And just when I think I’m finally about to, he changes the game again.

The doors open into a dark foyer. What little I can see of it is bathed in the moonlight shining through the windows. Hardwood floors. Minimal furniture. It’s cavernous and quiet. When he takes me by the arm and leads me to a stairwell near the entry, our footsteps echo throughout the space.

"What are we doing?"

"You'll see.” Daire takes his time ascending the stairs. It looks like he’s being careful and deliberate, but I know the real reason is that it’s painful. His grip on the cane turns his knuckles white, but his face doesn’t falter or give him away.

At the top, there’s a set of French doors which he opens with another code. The breeze is the first thing to hit me, followed by the scent of Jasmine and saltwater. My eyes struggle to comprehend what I’m seeing. There are flowers and trees and ivy and crisp blue water. I’ve entered an urban oasis I didn’t even know existed, and it really does feel like Narnia.

"You have a pool?"

Daire nods like it’s not a big deal that he has his own slice of paradise on top of the city. It’s incredible. The stars and the air and moon and the plants. There are even solar lights strategically placed throughout the space to illuminate the walkways.

“And of course, there’s a fountain.” I walk to the edge and bend down to drag my fingers through the water. It's warm. Clean and fresh and inviting. And I want in. But I don't have the suit for it.

"How about it?" Daire asks. He’s still standing in the shadow where he can’t give anything away. I can’t see his eyes, and I need to see his eyes.

"A swim?" I ask. "I don't have a suit."

"Neither do I. That never stopped us before." He's right. It didn't. But this feels different. Like we’re venturing into dangerous territory. Like if I go down this path, I might not ever be able to come back. My inhibitions are practically nonexistent, and right now, so are my walls. It would be easy to blame it on the alcohol, but that isn’t my excuse. My last drink was over an hour ago, and that isn’t why my head feels so fuzzy.

---

Daire seems to sense my reluctance. My confusion. And also, my desire to say yes. "You said you loved to swim beneath the stars.”

"When did I say that?”

“A long time ago.”

That’s a generalization if I ever heard one, but I don’t need to hear him say it. I remember everything, and I know he does too. The last time we did this, Ryan was here. There was a party at the beach that night that I really didn’t feel like going to. But Ryan had shown up at my house, already drunk, insisting I tag along. I agreed, hoping that things would be different that time. But I should have known better.

He argued with Daire as soon as we got to the car. Daire refused to hand over the keys, and Ryan almost punched him then and there. He was like that when he drank. He got angry easily, and especially when it came to Daire. I never really understood their relationship. They were half-brothers, but they’d never lived together. Daire was the product of one of his father’s affairs, and even though I knew Ryan cared about him, I always thought he resented him too. They were from two different worlds. Ryan had been given everything in life, and Daire had been given nothing. It made me feel guilty that Daire was the one I could relate to. And it made me feel even worse that sometimes I caught myself staring at him too long. Which is exactly what happened that night.

After their fight, Ryan ditched us as soon as we got to the party. He told me to stay with Daire while he disappeared into the crowd. To say that it was awkward was an understatement. Daire didn’t talk to me if he could help it, and I always got so nervous around him that I couldn’t seem to shut up. I’d mentioned that I loved to swim at night during that conversation. And if you’d asked me then, I wouldn’t have believed that he’d even heard it. But Daire wore his cloak of indifference well. He wore it so well that he didn’t even blink when he saw Ryan kissing another girl.

I didn’t blink either. The night went on, and I learned how to be a good actress while I drank way too much stale beer. The funny thing is that I can’t remember what happened with Ryan that night. I only remember Daire. He was the one to take me home and deposit me into my bed like it was his job to take care of me. And when he thought I was asleep, he’d whispered something before he closed the door.

He’d told me that I deserved better. And then he told me that he was sorry.

When I look at him now, my heart beats faster than it should. He’s changed so much. But there are still parts of him that remain the same. He’s steadfast. Quiet. Strong. The only real constant I’ve had in my life that I can speak of. And I wonder if he knows that.

“Daire—” my voice cracks.

“Yes?”

I turn around and kick off my shoes while he watches. This is really happening. I don't know what's real and what's fake anymore. I don't know where the line is. "I need some help," I tell him. "With my dress."

He walks around behind me, and I shiver when his fingers graze the back of my neck before finding the zipper. He pulls it down with a strong and capable hand. The sky tilts, and I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster.

His breath blows against me when he speaks. "Lola?"

"Hmm?" I whisper.

"I can't wait to get you wet."

I turn around to glare at him, and something comes over me. Something ballsy. Because I push him, still half clothed, right into the pool. The two second flash of surprise on his face before he hits the water is priceless. But my victory doesn't last long. Because the moment he comes up for air, he lunges for me and yanks me in after him.

I am not graceful on a good day. But even less so in a dress, underwater. I flail about, and Daire pins me to the side of the pool, his eyes dark and hot. "That wasn't very smart, Lola."

"Sorry?" I smile up at him innocently.

"You're not sorry.”

He's right. But then I think about his leg, and I cringe.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He lowers his eyes to mine. “As if you could.”

He's so close I can’t find the strength I need to reply. He’s drenched but warm. And I can feel him even when he’s six inches away. I can smell him on the breeze and time hasn’t changed that much.

I close my eyes and try to will my turbulent emotions away. For so many years I have carried these feelings. I have tried, and I have failed to rid myself of Adrian Daire. I don't know why the universe has cursed me with this love for a man who can never return it, but I know that right now I am powerless against it.

A dangerous game has taken root in my mind. It's been gnawing at me all night, desperate to be spoken aloud. It comes out, like word vomit, in the most horrendous way I could possibly imagine.

"Daire?”

“What, Lola?”

“Will you have sex with me?”