Page 99 of I Don't Need Your Romance

“But here’s hoping she’s right,” Carly says, also giving me a smile.

I sigh heavily. “He only invited me because he doesn’t want to be in hell. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh,” Addie sing-songs.

I grab my bag and helmet and head for the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Have fun,” they call after me.

I’m not going to let their thoughts affect me. This is just two friends hanging out together because one friend will be lonely. That’s all.

Damian stands outside the dorm room, a few feet away from the guard who isn’t taking his eyes off him. He wears a pressed white shirt, shiny shoes, a red tie, and black slacks. And of course his leather jacket.

He straightens up when he sees me. “Hey. You look beautiful.”

My cheeks feel warm. “Thanks. You clean up nicely, too.”

“I try.”

“Were you waiting long? Sorry, my friends were being super annoying.”

“Annoying how?” he asks as we make our way toward the parking lot.

I freeze. “Oh, um. Nothing, really. Just the usual girl stuff.”

He nods, but makes a face like he has no idea what I’m talking about. I’m not going to tell him my friends want this to be a date.

“You think Queen Rose will ruin my hair?” I ask once we’re standing before his bike.

He glances at my hair. “A good chance it might, but you’re not riding without it.”

I frown. “Guess I need to skip this event. Sorry.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m not going to turn up at this fancy party looking like I just went through a tornado.”

He just watches me, his eyes begging me not to let him do this alone.

I playfully slap his chest. “Dude, I’m just kidding. Of course I want to go. Free rich food, remember?”

“How could I forget? We can try to keep your hair as neat as possible, but you never know with the wind.”

I wave my hand. “I mean, I don’t want to ruin your reputation by entering the venue with crazy hair.”

He scoffs. “As if I care what those snooty people think of me.” He motions toward his leather jacket. “Most of my mom’s friends are scared of this.”

“Really? That’s funny.”

“Yeah, they think I’m a thug.”

“The motorcycle doesn’t help.”

He grins. “No, it doesn’t. But it drives my mom insane, so it’s all good.” He pulls out his phone to check the time. “Crap. We’re late. We’d better get moving.”

We put on our helmets, Damian waits for me to climb on the bike, then gets on in front of me. He turns toward me, lifting his visor. “Remember, hold on as tightly as you can.”

“Yep.”