One picture, one lie, one mosaic heart ruined it all. Negated it. The only thing saving us is that confession in the snow. He played a card I didn't expect: candor. Even if it was drunken candor.

It's something we don't always have in our world.

Secrets, lies, and intrigues are the bread and butter of high society. I've heard it called a game of houses, and it couldn't be more accurate.

"I didn't think you would say yes so soon." His tone is gentle, almost like he regrets saying it.

"I've been busy." It isn't a lie. I have been swamped with schoolwork and private tutors.

"Yeah, me too. I finally have back-to-back home games this week." He nods awkwardly. "So it's a good time to get together and talk. I'm not jet lagged."

This dancing small talk is agonizing. I think he's trying to be real and I'm trying to be fake and we're just awful. "Where are we eating?" I might as well have asked about the game I'm going to pretend I didn't watch on TV.

"Not telling." Some of his cockiness creeps across his lips and he's suddenly old Matt with a naughty grin. "It's a surprise." He lifts a black blindfold. "One you can't see." The way he leans forward, taking up too much of my personal space, brings back some limo memories I have mixed feelings about. He grins, fully letting that confident leer take over his face. "Ready?" The mischief in his eyes and how his hair hangs over his face is too hot. The blindfold in his huge hands has my thighs almost as tight as my stomach.

"Yeah." I want to argue but I don't. I surprise us both when I mutter, "Okay." Taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, I wait for the feel of the silky material. It's not the first time someone has covered my eyes like this, but it's the hottest.


      
        
          
        
         

When the fabric brushes against my cheek, I wrestle with nerves and the question of where this is going. His warm hands rest the elastic against the back of my head and his face lingers too close. His breath tickles my lip gloss, but he doesn't kiss me.

"You always smell so good. I miss the way you smell," he says softly before moving away from me, sitting back where he was. He smells good too but I don't say a thing.

It is the first time riding in a car blindfolded so I'm finding it odd to be moved and jerked and not be prepared for it. I lean into the corner, but I'm not ready for the next one and topple over. "Shit."

"Here." He sits next to me, holding me to him. The closeness and sensation of his arms around mine is too much. I swallow hard, leaning into him as the car takes another corner. Our faces are so close I can taste him in the air.

The car jerks slightly, coming to a stop. Matt holds still for a second longer than he needs to before he takes my hand in his, pulling me to the door. When it opens, the air attacks, proving how warm it was in the car-how warm he was.

His fingers link with mine as he helps me out, steadying me on my boots.

"Is there a curb?" I tap with my foot like a vision-impaired person might with their cane.

"No." He wraps an arm around my waist and drags me into him and then forward. Walking is terrifying, and yet I trust him, in this anyway. Maybe I trust him more than I'm willing to admit to.

The wind whips around us and I wonder where the hell we are.

We walk, him leading us inside where the wind dies off as the door closes behind us. My boots click on the floor, it's most likely tiles or stone. It could be a restaurant but there's silence except for our shoes. It's impossible to guess which restaurant would be silent, even on a Monday.

Unless he's taking me to one of the restaurants that's closed Mondays, and he's gotten them to open for us.

I can't imagine what it is, but I let him guide me to some more doors. The way we move makes me think we've stepped into an elevator. He draws closer as the doors close. I think it's only us in here, which makes me think about the fantasy I have with elevators, thanks to Fifty Shades.

"Can I have a hint?" I ask, realizing how quiet I've been just listening to my racing heart. My skin prickles against his, forcing the hairs on my arms to stand on end.

"No." He leans in, brushing his lips over mine and whispering against my cheek, "Be patient." The stolen kiss melts my insides, intensifying the effect of riding the elevator up blindfolded. The doors open and we walk along a hallway. More silence.