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I can’t find the words to respond, so I nod.

“Oh,” Trish says, furrowing her brows, “that’s … odd. Wow, so are you two a thing?”

Her eyes move briefly to me before returning to the Bargainer. The girl is undressing him slowly in her mind’s eye, and damnit, I had a corner on that particular market up until today.

The Bargainer’s gaze moves past Trish’s shoulder. “Your date’s waiting for you, Trish Claremont. Don’t leave him hanging.”

“How do you know—?” Her words trail off at whatever she sees on Des’s face. She glances over her shoulder, backing away. “Uh, yeah, well, it was nice meeting you, Dean.” She doesn’t bother saying goodbye to me before she hastily retreats.

He watches her walk away, his eyes narrowed.

“That was weird,” I say.

Weird is just a euphemism for an emotion I can’t actually put a name on. Obviously a part of me is territorial, which is embarrassing because Des isn’t even mine, but it’s more than that. It’s being both pleased and disappointed to be recognized for the first time in your life by someone you don’t like. And it’s shame that a part of you even feels pleased at something as basic as human recognition. But then again, Trishahadn’treally seen me tonight. Not as a friend, not as a threat. My existence began and ended with the introduction I gave her.

Bringing Des here might’ve been a very bad idea.

The Bargainer’s lips brush against my ear. “Let’s find a table. Maybe I’ll even let you straddle me and pretend that we’re a thing for the next girl that asks.”

That’s all it takes to wipe away my somber mood.

My skin begins to brighten just from the thought of getting to straddle Des. A.k.a., this siren totally popped a lady boner.

Des doesn’t have time to remark on it before more acquaintances come over.

And so we do that same little song and dance all over again. And again.

Right in the middle of introductions to Clarice, a girl from my myths and legends class, the Bargainer takes my hand and leads me away. I barely have time to throw her an apologetic glance over my shoulder before I’m swept off.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Students part as soon as they see Des. “Dance floor,” he says over his shoulder.

I slow a little. Dancing is not really my thing.

He gives a little tug, and what pathetic resistance I have falls away.

I catch up to his side. “That was insanity back there,” I say, because I can’t think of anything better.

“That was hellacious,” he says, “and I’m used to events like this. Thank fuck I never went to high school.” That gets him a look or two from people who’ve overheard us.

“You never went to high school?” I ask as we weave between couples. I don’t know why I’m surprised; nothing about Des seems particularly normal.

But still.

“My upbringing was a little more unconventional.”

Because Des is a king of the Otherworld. Aking.

I took a fae king to my supernatural prom.

Jesus. All I need is the Monster Mash playing in the background to round this out.

We step onto the dancefloor just as one song ends and a slow one begins.

I suck in a breath, about to be like, “Oh, ew a slow song, let’s sit this one out,” despite wanting to latch onto the Bargainer like a koala. But before I can get a word in, he pulls me in close, one of his hands going to the small of my back, where my skin is exposed.

There’s something oddly intimate about his hand touching the bare skin at the base of my spine, something that has my cheeks flushing.