When Liam’s mom and Davis are gone, I suddenly feel this horribly awkward tension in my chest. I’m still wearing the goofy Belle dress, and I’m a little bit flushed from the brandy. Mostly, though, I’m nervous as hell about what I am pretty sure Liam and I agreed to in front of his mom. That we were going to “make it real?” Yeah, I’m pretty sure we both said that.

What does that even mean? Are we going to start dating, taking it slow like I usually would? Or are we going to suddenly act like we’ve been dating for eight months?

The real question on my mind now? It’s if I am going to sleep with him? And when?

He kissed me--no, we kissed--one time so far. He’s touched me a few times, mostly as a comforting and somewhat intimate gesture, but nothing overtly sexual. But if we are going to make things real, I can only imagine that means sleeping together.

He’s...definitely a guy I’d like to sleep with, that much is for sure. So why am I feeling so incredibly nervous about it?

“Sorry about the dress,” Liam says, breaking me out of my worried daydream.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I used to love the old Disney movie.”

He smiles. “I think my mom really liked you.”

I nod absently.

“The thing we talked about,” he says. “We don’t have to, unless--”

I look up at him, locking eyes with him. We’re standing in the foyer, and he’s towering over me, as usual.

“I don’t know exactly what I was agreeing to,” I say.

“I know,” he says. “I don’t either actually.”

“What do you think it meant, though?” I ask.

This is a ridiculous question. Am I asking him what he thinks his mom meant, or what he meant? Or maybe even what I meant?

He lets out a dry laugh. “I haven’t really dated anyone in years, Amber. I think Cynthia was the last person I was at all serious about. Though, that was…complicated.”

“You slept with a lot of women, though,” I say, just wanting to get it out there.

He nods. “Yeah. So what does it mean? To make it real? It’s not just sleeping with you.”

I feel my cheeks burning. Not just sleeping with me implies that it will include sleeping with me.

“Maybe we should just get it over with,” I say.

He laughs. “Get it over with...like ripping off a band-aid?”

“Liam,” I say, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we go on a date first,” he says. “See if we really even like each other.”

I already like him. I don’t think I need to go on a date with him to figure that out, but I won’t turn down the opportunity to go out on a date with a billionaire.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “So tonight’s dinner with your mom and Davis didn’t count?”

He shakes his head. “Of course not, trying to get you to lie to my mom isn’t exactly romantic or what I’d consider a date. This will be a real date, relaxing and with no pressure. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” I say. “That sounds really good.”

* * *

There’s a quiet knock at my door, and I can barely open my eyes. The room is still dark, with only the slightest hint of sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains.

“Yeah?” I shout out.

“Time to wake up.” It’s James’ voice.

“What for?” I ask.

It’s the weekend, why would I wake up at the crack of dawn?

“Your date,” James says.

What the hell kind of date starts before the sun comes up? Maybe Liam really isn’t right for me if he thinks waking up this early is fun and relaxing.

I stretch resignedly and get out of bed. “Okay, I’m coming.”

“Pack a bag for two days,” James says. “And be ready to go in an hour.”

Pack a bag? So we’re going on some kind of trip? And telling me to get ready in under an hour? That is anything but fun and relaxing.

I open a suitcase and then shift into the closet to stare at my wardrobe. What the hell am I supposed to pack?

“James!” I shout, and open the door.

I’m wearing pajamas, but James is gay, so I don’t really care if he sees me.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“It’s a secret,” he says.

I sigh. “If we’re going on a skiing trip, I need to pack one thing. If we’re going to the beach, I need to pack something different. Help me out here. Give me a clue.”

“Everything you need will be there,” James says. “Clothes included. Pack only extra things you might want.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He points to the desk and my stack of textbooks. “If you have homework to do over the weekend, for example.”

“So I don’t need to pack any clothes?” I give him a questioning look.

“Wear something comfortable,” he says. “I suppose if you have a favorite dress, you could bring it…”

I roll my eyes at him, thinking of his cousin’s Beauty and the Beast costume.

“No favorites.”

“Alright then,” he says. “Just get ready to go. Liam doesn’t like being late.”