Dare Me Not | 18+ ✔

17. The Gala Night (Parker)

The girls always say I'm good at faking my expression even though I'm slowly dying from boredom, and they aren't wrong. It's my best survival instinct so far to pull through life as the great Timothy Hayes' daughter. It comes in handy, especially when I have to convince people that I'm interested in all the crap they share with me.

It was just two hours ago when Xander and I arrived at our business partner's product launch event, but it feels like I've been sitting here for eighty years. This is Friday night, for fuck's sake. I prefer the blaring electronic dance music to this classy ballad instrumental, or blinking laser lights to the shiny chandeliers. I want to move my body, shake my ass, laugh, and scream at the top of my lungs. Alas, I need to sit tight in a pricey black gown and wear a charming smile all evening. What a pretentious, useless gala night.

If I could, I would escape this event using whatever excuses I had in mind. Xander could bring whomever he wanted to this stupid event – he could have brought his girlfriend. The thing is, I need to show my dad I'm serious about my offer the other day. I want him to see I'm in this one hundred percent. So, I'd better swallow my grumbles about this boring event.

"You barely touched your meal. Not hungry?" Xander asks in my ear. His warm breath caresses my bare neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

I shake my head. "I am hungry, but not for this kind of food." Burgers, fries, and an oversized soda drink pop in my head as I say it.

"Oh, I'm sorry it didn't live up to your standard."

I shrug and turn to look at this face, his lips dangerously close to my cheek. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

Xander's eyes travel down and stop at my lips; I can almost see him swallowing. Before I can blink, he moves away to keep a proper distance between us and clears his throat. "Would a little dance entice you?" he says, glancing at the dance floor at the other end of the ballroom.

I flinch when I follow his line of sight. Not that kind of dance. It's dull and soulless and pompous and stupid. "Uh, no. I think I'm fine here."

I'm not sure if he understands why I decline, but the faint smirk in the corners of his lips tells me he has plans. The mischievous kind.

Something about him is a bit different lately. Since our last encounter in the meeting room, he hasn't asked me about anything personal. He's turned guarded and distant —not that it's my business, but it's just no fun to poke fun at him because I'll barely get the reaction I want.

"Unfortunately, we should hit the dance floor to respect Mr. Corn. Then we can leave after that if you want," he says, standing up and holding out his hand to me.

I stare at his big fingers, thinking if I should refuse and pout like a child just to give him a headache. I'm tempted to see how he will react to my immature act because the stiffer he gets, the more I want to annoy him. But when I look up at him, the soft and vulnerable glint in his eyes catches me off guard. He seems...sad? But for what? He's a guy who barely takes anything personally and functions like a robot. Who is capable of making him feel miserable like this? My money is on the girlfriend.

"Fine." I hear myself replying, dropping my childish idea.

Just when I'm about to take his hand, my phone in my clutch chimes. I gesture at him to wait before I quickly fish my phone out and find my dad's caller ID blinking on my screen.

"You need to take that, I suppose," Xander says.

"Yeah. It's Dad. Be right back." I walk briskly to the ballroom door to escape the loud music cramming the air. "Hi, Dad," I greet my old man once I reach the hallway.