Page 10 of Ex- Factor

I said Friday night that I was going to put Silas out Saturday morning, but it was Saturday afternoon. He was still there. He came out of my bathroom dressed to kill, wearing that little smirk he wore.

“Where you going looking like you looking?” was what I asked, even though the voice in the back of my head was screaming, What bitch you dressed up for?

He had on a dark navy button-up, the sleeves pushed to his forearms just enough to show the hint of a watch that probably cost somebody’s mortgage.

The shirt was tucked into tailored charcoal slacks that looked custom-fit on him.

Clean white leather sneakers. His hair was brushed back—I could see the little lineup he’d gotten.

He was giving rich-boy casual, and he smelled like good credit and custom cologne.

He was fine, and I hadn’t thought white boys could be fine before him. And it almost made me want to forget I ever said we could only be friends. I had to take a deep breath and remind myself to stick to the boundaries I’d set for myself.

But he was testing me.

“You mean, where are we going. I got a surprise for you,” he said, holding a long white box out to me.

I raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Take it,” he said, handing it over. “Open it.”

I lifted the lid and peeled back the tissue paper. It was a dress—black, silky, with a high slit and thin straps. My fingers brushed the fabric. It looked expensive.

“What’s this for?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “I’m taking you to a Jill Scott concert tonight. Cassius and Angel are meeting us there.”

I looked up at him. “You serious?” I asked, feeling myself getting giddy. He knew I loved me some Jill Scott, but her tickets at some private VIP spot were twelve hundred dollars. I ain’t got twelve hundred dollars to see nobody sing.

“Dead serious.” He stepped closer. “Put them big curls in your hair that I like. And get dressed. I’ll wait.”

I shook my head but couldn’t stop the smile from curling my lips. “Is this a date?” I tried to frown, but I could still feel my smile.

“Yes,” he said.

“But I said—” I started to remind him that we were just friends.

He stopped me. Reaching out, he gripped my chin, running his thumb across my lips with this serious look on his face. “Don’t argue with me or say something I won’t like. You owe me this.”

I cocked my head. “How I owe you?”

“For Jace. You feel guilty about that date because you know what we have and still went. That’s why.”

His hand dropped away from my chin, and he tugged at my ear playfully. “Don’t deny it. Go get dressed, woman.”

He sat on the couch like he owned it, dismissing me. I stared at the side of his head, wondering how he had read me right.

It took a few seconds before I walked away and did what he said.

I went in the bathroom, pulled out my curling wand, and got to work.

Forty-five minutes later, I stepped out of the room dressed, hair big and soft around my face, lips glossed, heels strapped on tight.

The dress fit like he knew my measurements better than I did.

His eyes traveled slow. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I knew you’d look beautiful.”

The way he was looking at me had my whole body feeling like it was blushing. I looked away and rushed to the door.

In the car I sang along with SiR to distract my thoughts from thinking too much about Silas and what was obviously developing between us:

Can you breathe underwater?

Should I dive any deeper?

What’s the name you want me to call you

Whenever I need you?

Silas was quiet as we rolled past a row of restaurants in downtown Tampa. He tapped the steering wheel, like he was thinking something over.

He was the one to interrupt the silence. “How would you have felt if you saw me in a restaurant on a date?”

My eyes snapped over to him. He didn’t even look at me, just kept driving. Why was he still on this?

I leaned back in my seat. “I wouldn’t have felt anything. You’re grown and single. You can do what you want.”

“Mmhmm.” He gave a short nod, like he was about to let me lie out loud in peace.

I hurried up and tried to steer the conversation away from my date with Jace. “So, what song you think she’s opening with tonight? ‘The Way’? Or you think she’s saving that for last?”

“You would’ve been sick,” he said, like I hadn’t said a word. “Not because we’re together, but because you feeling me like I’m feeling you. I don’t like that you’re lying to me about it.”

I sighed. “It was just one date I didn’t even enjoy.”

“But still,” he said, “seeing you with him… it did something to me.”

I glanced over at him, but he was still watching the road. Jaw tight. Brows low.

“I felt scared. Scared of losing whatever it is we have going on. And I don’t even have you yet. Not fully. But I felt like somebody reached inside of my chest, grabbed my heart, and squeezed.”

My throat went tight. I didn’t know what to say.

“And I was mad,” he added. “Mad that I don’t have the right to be mad. Mad I didn’t have the right to make you get up and leave…”

He laughed under his breath, no humor in it. “I’m mad it ruined that night for me because you let me walk right in your house like I had the right to be there. I should have been celebrating that victory, but I was mad as fuck.”

He went silent after that.

Guilt sat in my throat. Because he was being so vulnerable and emotionally intelligent, and I was playing in his face.

“…You’re right,” I said finally. My voice was smaller than I liked it. “I would’ve been sick.”

He glanced at me then, one hand still on the wheel.

I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

A grin broke out on his face. “If you’re really sorry you’ll sit on my face when we get back home.”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. “There is something wrong with you.”

He laughed. “It’s you. You’re what’s wrong with me.”

I didn’t say anything else to him. This man had me ready to risk peace for passion, and that scared the hell out of me—because I knew exactly where that road led.