Deep End

06 | Hook, Line, and Sinker pt.2 🔥

CHAPTER-06: Hook, Line, and Sinker pt.2

Desirae: Of all the incredibly stupid, inexplicably asinine things I could've done with my stupid inconsequential life.

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RAE'S POV:
My eyes follow a steep, yet steady trail of regret and unmasked shame back to holding that stiff, intense eye contact with Silas.

"Bingo." 

He says, characteristically unenthusiastic. His stoic, unmoving demeanor and intense gaze is starting to make me dizzy—or maybe it was the fact that I've shared a kiss with this Greek freakin' god of a man and mentally repressed all placid memories of doing so for fear of him filing for sexual assault, or worse..

The silence is tense—stiff.

"I didn't know." I say dumbly—like that'll do me any good.

"Well ya' do now." He says, unimpressed.

"I—"

"You make a habit outta' breaking into the guys' locker room to get some 'alone' time with your idols? Is it some kinda' crazy fan kink or..."

He asks, sounding both enigmatically unconcerned and like, two-sevenths genuine.

I massage my temples, "I was in a bad place." I shoot back.

He takes to resting his weight against the wall and glancing down at his watch for a brief moment or two before returning his dry, bored--yet patient, unreadable glances back to me.

"So you assaulted the first guy you saw." He says, scoffing a little.

"Sounds bad when you say it like that--"

"Sounds bad however ya' say it." He says dryly.

I groan softly and push out of the stupid, cherry red bar stool I'd been plastered on for the past 10–15 minutes and making my way over. 

"It's not like that—listen." I say, "I had... to shut ya' up so Cal wouldn't hear. I—" 

Realizing I'm the furthest thing from both alleviating the severity of this predicament, and providing assuage for the fat stick up his ass, I fall silent.

He sniffs, "Could care less what your reason was, Ms. Desirae. Just give me a yes or no answer. Fake date me for two-three months and I'll cover all your expenses while your training here—as well as pay you once to twice a week. We'll have at-least one date a week at a set time on a set day of the week--you'll be receiving payment for those too. Those are the parameters of our agreement. You can add whatever you want just—"

"Rae."

He stops.

"My name's.. Rae." I say in a unintentionally softer tone.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to inform him.

It's not like I usually enslave myself to something as inconsequential and socially constructed as 'preference', but I felt, for some reason, that I'd really, really like to hear my name roll off his tongue—more so than I've liked hearing it roll off anyone else's before in the past.

As little sense as that makes.

It just makes... sense.

I take a few minutes to reflect--and gradually, weaken my own resolve at the tantalizing prospect of, "All expenses paid?" I revisit the main question resonating through my mind.

Speaking of cents..

He nods once, still staring down at me with that intense, unreadable expression.
I can't deny him anymore—he had me the moment he dragged money into this equation.

Money I desperately need to support Dad..

Sam...

Damien...

myself...

After a longer few moments of intensive thought I ask softly,

"..Why me? I stare up. My question was in earnest.. if it was really worth anything in his eyes I tried to convey that, at-least. 

It's not that I seriously doubt my conventional attractiveness in any way, shape, or form.. it's just that.. I do?

All I can say that being asked to fake date my childhood swim idol who'd I'd lost track of while delving into the turmoil of chasing rigorous academic programs that should equate to my success in later years, wasn't exactly at the top of my bucket-list paraded by vacancy.

 He leans off the wall and steps closer.