"Looks like your fake date is now our fake relationship."
"Shit." My breath comes out in a rush.
Mitchel starts typing into his phone. "My manager saw it and sent it. It's kind of impressive how fast it got out."
"Impressive?" I look at him, bewildered. Mother has very specific rules in which her children appear in the media. She chooses the place, time and publication. Once she sees this there might actually be blood. "It's reckless."
Then again, I had been more reckless than whoever posted this photo. I hadn't been thinking that I'd be putting Mitchel on display, I only thought about my own situation. And only a little bit about how, without a beard covering his face, Mitchel's lips look very full and inviting.
Still caught in the sway of the dance floor, I grab Mitchel's shoulders and turn him to face me, bracing us against the bustle.
"I'm sorry," I say above the music.
Mitchel gives me a confused look. "Why? It's not your fault. Besides, what's one more photo really going to do to me?"
"I'm the reason there was something to photograph. You wouldn't even have been here tonight if it wasn't for me, and I doubt a photo of us standing side by side would have hit the internet so fast."
"Probably. But where's the fun in that?" Mitchel winks at me. Even in a situation like this there is humor glinting in his eyes. His phone buzzes again. "My manager says I should get out of here."
"I thought you had to stay for a while?"
Mitchel rolls his eyes at me. "I'd like to escape the reporters that are going to swarm here."
"They'll do that?" A frown begins to form.
Mitchel leans his face close to me and whispers conspiringly. "You have so much to learn about dating me."
"Be serious, Mitchel, what are we going to-"
Mitchel's phone buzzes in his hand again. He holds it up, mouthing the words 'hold on'. He turns and starts navigating out of the crowd, already typing out a response.
I follow behind him when my own phone starts vibrating in my jacket. I know who it is before I see the screen but reading the name still fills me with dread.
"Mother." I answer.
"You're on the goddamn internet, Skyler."
"Yeah, we were just looking at it."
"Oh! You were just looking at it?" The outrage in her voice is loud over the noise of the ballroom. "Let's just get this taken care of, bring him up here. The reporters already know about it. Mr. Hollywood can straighten out this misunderstanding."
I open my mouth to agree. After all, it's Mitchel's career and his life that's going to be disrupted. Just as I'm about to answer, a familiar dress standing at the lobby balcony catches my attention. I can see Mother's phone lifted to her ear from here, her eyes drilling into us across the distance.
If I tell her now, I'll never hear the end of it. Uncertainly, I look over at Mitchel. He had just said 'What's one more photo going to do?' History books aren't written by quitters.
Swallowing my concerns, I speak with more confidence than I have. "Sorry, Mother, but what misunderstanding?"
"Skyler-"
"I have to go, I've got to get Mitchel out before the reporters swarm. Please take care of his car, I'm going to take him home."
I end the call and the terror of what I said keeps me from looking up again. I hot-step over to Mitchel and snag an arm around his shoulders. Ignoring his startled look, I begin to pull him in the opposite direction of the lobby stairs.
"I'll take you home!" I assure him.
"Wait, Skyler, what about my car?"
"Mother's taking care of it." I show him a stiff grin. "Trust me."
His brow casts down with doubt but he still comes along.
Servers are bustling in and out of the employee hallway with a couple of security lining the entrance. I receive a hint of recognition and waved through, leaving the ballroom behind.
Slowing my steps, I glance through each doorway and down every hallway branching out. We should be able to reach the parking garage from here without encountering any other guests. Or Mother.
I realize I still have my arm wrapped around Mitchel only when he stops and pulls free. "You have no idea where we're going, do you?"
"I-I do. I just don't visit the hotels a lot. And I don't want you to have to deal with the reporters. So, if I can get you out and drive you home, you won't have to deal with any hassle." I stop and find my direction. "Let's go this way."
Mitchel follows me, politely not mentioning a thing when we have to backtrack. Finally, I turn down the correct corridor and can see the large sliding doors to the parking garage ahead. With a grin, I tell Mitchel, "I knew I could find it."
Striding forward, I stop when I see a large group of people passing outside the door. Their speed and the obvious cameras around their necks are a dead giveaway.
"Shit!" I spin around and stop Mitchel, pulling him over to the side of the corridor. There's nowhere to hide but I try to block him with my body. Watching over my shoulder, the group has simply gone past the door, more likely heading for the front of the building and the VIP entrance.
Letting out the breath I was holding, I look down at Mitchel. He's staring straight ahead but his mouth is twitching with a slight smile. Looking further down, my hands are still pressing directly against his chest, holding him against the wall.
"Ah! Shit, sorry." I jump back a few feet, the warmth of his body still heating my palms. "I saw some reporters."
Mitchel looks down and straightens his clothes. "My hero," he murmurs, a slight smile still on his lips.
"Um, let's, let's go." I turn and walk rigidly towards the exit. When I step into the garage, my car is already being driven up and stops in front of us.
"Professor Collins," a valet hops out. "Mrs. Collins sent me with your car."
"Thank you." I wave him off and open Mitchel's door myself, waiting for him to settle himself in the passenger seat before getting in on the driver's side.
As we exit onto the city's streets, I pull up the navigation screen. "Here. Enter your address."
"Oh, right." Mitchel enters the information and I begin to follow the prompts.
"Ah, those flowers!" Out of the side of my eye I see Mitchel pointing to the backseat. "Did you need to give them to your mom?"
Stopping at a red light, I reach my arm back and grab the large bouquet and try to hand them to Mtichel. "They're not for my mother. I wasn't really sure how to act tonight and bought them. Then I realized it would be awkward to give them to you inside. But I guess they made it to you after all."
Mitchel just stares at me. I drop them into his lap when the light turns green.
"Um, thank you. Really, thank you, they're beautiful but...are you treating me like a woman?"
"What do you mean?"
"Holding doors for me, giving me flowers, too. It's a little unnecessary."
Shit, I didn't know there were different protocols for dating a man. "No one has given you flowers before?"
"Sure, for work and acting, or graduation, stuff like that. But do you usually give men flowers, too?"
"How the hell would I know?"
Silence reigns from the other side of the car.
"Are you saying that I'm the first man you've ever gone out with?"
"Yes."
"Not even in, like, secret? Or away from your family?"
I throw him a sideways glance. "Why would it have to be in secret? I just haven't gone out with a man before."
"Oh."
My go over when I was deciding what to choose at the florist. "Maybe I made a mistake but I thought you liked flowers. I bought them to match your tattoo."
"My tattoo?" Mitchel spins to face me.
"Yeah." Keeping my eyes on the road, I lean forward in my seat. I awkwardly draw a circle with one hand in the air over my own lower back "Here. One with purple flowers."
"I didn't know you've seen that."
"I didn't look on purpose! I swear!" It's those damn tank tops he wears to work out in. Abs in the front, brightly-hued flowers taunting me from the back. It's a whole show.
A small noise has me glancing over. Mitchel is covering his mouth, now trying to duck behind the bouquet. His shoulders shake a little and when he catches me eyeing him he waves his hand back and forth with a smile. "You sound so upset, I wasn't accusing you or anything."
I reach over and pull his damn jacket closed again. "You're the one whose clothes don't work."
This sends Mitchel into a peal of laughter, no longer trying to hide it. It shakes his whole body and fills the car with a real and happy sound.
Content to let him laugh a little at me over this, I just turn my attention to driving. Soon, we are entering a newer, high-end neighborhood. The houses are all hidden behind gates and large walls. Slowing down, I turn onto Mitchel's street.
"It's that one." He points across. I pull up alongside the keypad at the gate. "The pin is 04-27-95, then star."
"Your birthday?" I question but dutifully roll down the window and enter the code. "That's so unsafe. You're a celebrity, what if some crazy fan tracks you down."
"You remember my birthday?"
The gate slowly opens and I park in the short driveway. Turning to Mitchel, "It was just last month. I'm a history professor, I can remember one simple date. Please change it though."
"Yes, sir!" Mitchel lets the flowers drop to his lap and unbuckles. Instead of opening the door, he crosses his arms on the center console towards me. "Are you worried about me?"
The dark interior shrinks. The cool night air starts to warm up. Before tonight, I never noticed his habit of leaning this close to people. "I'm, uh, I just think people should be safe."
Mitchel doesn't say anything, his smile bright even through the dark.
I clear my throat before asking, "Do you want me to walk you to the door? Or is that also not something I should do?"
"I'm a big boy. I'll be fine." Mitchel still makes no move to leave the car. "Thanks for the ride home."
"You're welcome. And thank you for coming tonight. I'm sorry if it's going to cause you some trouble. I really owe you one."
"Speaking of owing you one..." The wrap of the bouquet crinkles in the dark as Mitchel presses forward and places his lips on mine. The sudden contact is warm and soft, making my brain cloudy.
With firm pressure, Mitchel slowly molds his lips along mine, pressing and tugging along their shape. I press into each stroke, wanting to feel more, to taste more.
He pulls back, breaking the contact. His breath fans across my sensitized lips when he speaks. "Now, we've both kissed each other tonight without permis-"
I snake a hand behind his nape and tip his mouth back to mine. He took the lead first but now I want it. Deepening the kiss, I suck at the seam of his lips, sticking my tongue forward to gain entrance. With a slight moan, Mitchel lets me inside the warmth of his mouth, lets me drink him in.
Freely following my lead, he sinks into the kiss. His tongue explores mine, then runs along my bottom lip before going back to tangle again. His flavor is so delicious, I anchor my hold on his neck, dipping deeper into the taste.
There is resistance on my hand as Mitchel tries to pull away even as his lips cling to me. Fighting the urge to follow, I force my hand to drop and allow him to back up. In the dim light I can see his chest moving up and down rapidly, the useless jacket slipping apart all over again.
"I think I should go inside." His voice comes to me husky in the dark. "But I had a really great time."
Afraid I'll say something stupid, like ask if I can go in with him, I stay quiet. Get it together, this isn't part of the plan!
Mitchel gathers the flowers and reaches for the door. With one foot out of the car he looks back once more, hesitating. "Thanks again."
I nod. My phone chimes loudly in the heightened air. Glad to have something else to focus on, I dive for it. Reading it, I instinctively reach my hand out and grab Mitchel's arm. "Wait."
"What is it?"
"Mother wants to have lunch with both of us."
"With both of us?" Mitchel sits back into the seat and stares at me.
"Please help me," I beg him. "If I show up alone then it's like this whole night was a waste of time."
"You want me to pretend that we're dating and have lunch with your mother?"
"This will be the last time. Please, Mitchel?"