"Go to dinner with me."

The words had escaped Davyn's mouth before he could filter them and convince himself what a bad idea it was.

Millie's sapphire eyes widened, and her lips parted, making her look like innocence incarnate. Like one of the models in her ethereal paintings which were still bathed in sunlight next to them.

Was there a chance that he hadn't said it out loud? That this was all a dream and he'd wake up in his bed, on his birthday again? Maybe then he'd make wiser decisions for the day.

"Yes, of course. Um, where do you want to go?"

Nope, he'd definitely let it out. And her surprise had morphed into a childish delight which he really enjoyed. She'd most likely never been out to dinner with a guy, so he was bringing another first into her life.

"Not now. It's obviously too early for dinner. I'll pick you up at seven."

Her eyebrows drew together in concentration as she seemed to be analyzing the brilliant plan which he was just making up on the spot.

"Where are we going?"

"It's going to be a surprise."

"Then how will I know how to get dressed?"

"It doesn't matter. Dress however you like."

She didn't insist, but by the way she bit her lower lip, it was obvious that she was doing a quick scan of her wardrobe. He wanted to mention she should be fine as long as she changed out of the overalls, but then his eyes drifted to the half-done portrait of himself and swallowed his words. She'd earned those overalls and then some.

A smile brightened her features, and she almost looked like one of her paintings. "Okay. I'll meet you out in the parking lot."

He couldn't help but kiss her again before he headed towards his house. He couldn't believe how early it was. He also couldn't believe that he'd basically just asked her out. He wasn't sure he'd ever taken a girl out to dinner. Movies, yes. Other fun activities which could work as foreplay, also yes. Parties? All the time. But dinner? What was he even looking to get out of this?

But as he reached home and got out of the car, he couldn't say he cared. Just food and more teasing so he could end his birthday on a high note. As he made his way to his room and headed for the shower, he racked his brain trying to come up with a restaurant to take her to. He could always check the Yellow Pages, but he didn't want to just risk it. He guessed there was this tiny Italian place he knew where he used to sometimes hang out with his father after martial arts practice. The thought of his father made him shudder. He really didn't want to go to a familiar place. Plus, Italian just seemed very unoriginal.

As he pulled on a pair of stone grey jeans, he remembered this fancy French place his mother had always wanted to go to, but they'd never really had the opportunity what with Sirius always being busy and his schedule inconsistent. Yeah, they could go there, he decided as he buttoned up a black shirt. Plus, she might appreciate the French setting.

His mind made up, he checked his watch and headed down the stairs. Even if it was still early, end of the workday traffic would make sure he arrived back at school just on time. He didn't want to keep Millie waiting.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He'd barely made it to the bottom of the stairs when Freider's voice grated on his nerves. He fought not to wince, but he only half-managed it.

"Out," he answered with a shrug and continued his way into the hall.

Freider dropped his keys on the table with a loud bang. "Don't you think it's about time you started doing things around here?"

Davyn threw him a glance over his shoulder as he slipped on his sneakers. "I'll wash the dishes when I get home."

"That's not what I mean. You're never home!"

"So what? Not like you want me here."

"You wouldn't die if you checked Ron's homework once in a while or cleaned his room."

"He can clean his own room like the rest of us, and if you wouldn't have gotten rid of our housekeeper, there wouldn't be two-inch thick dust on all the furniture. What are you saving money for anyway?"

Freider's jaw clenched and a muscle twitched. "You think you can just do whatever the hell you want?"

"Last time I checked, that's what being an adult meant. That I don't have to answer to you." And without waiting for any other genius contemplation to exit his brother's mouth, Davyn made his way through the narrow hallway and into the garage.

"Davyn!"

Freider followed, but Davyn was in no mood for his shit, especially since he didn't even wish him a happy birthday. True, probably the last thing on Freider's mind, but listening to his pompous ass was the last thing on Davyn's list, so they were even.

He turned the key in the ignition and the rumble of the engine drowned out whatever Freider was yelling at him. In a matter of seconds, he'd pulled out and was on his way downtown, his mind blissfully back on Millie. She was turning out to be very useful, detracting him from his family and the utter misery they were in.

He and Freider getting along had been nothing by a glitch in the grander scheme of things. It was obvious that his older brother wanted nothing to do with him or Ron. The only reason why he was probably still in that house was because he most likely wanted to keep it. If it were him, he'd have moved out long ago. Or sold the house. Freider was pretty bad at being an asshole too. Turned out he was pretty bad at everything.

The thought of Freider's many faults was somewhat peaceful and it kept him busy as he navigated evening traffic. The sun was setting, bathing the sea of cars in shades of crimson. As he'd anticipated he reached the now mostly-empty school parking lot with five minutes to spare. He barely managed to get out of the car when Millie appeared in the doorway to the dorms.

His jaw dropped open. She was actually wearing a dress. A white dress with a rounding neckline and frilly sleeves, decorated with a multitude of sunflowers. The skirt stopped right below her knees and she had a pair of yellow shoes on. She was wearing heels.

She smiled at him and headed over. Her hair was half caught up, leaving her face for show and still stumbling down her shoulders. He had to blink a couple of times to break free from the stupor.

"Hi," she said when she reached him and looked from him to the car. "Is this your car?"

"Is that your dress?"

"Well, no. Diana helped me get ready. Do you think it's too much?" Her previous smile wavered into uncertainty and she tightened the white cardigan she'd thrown over her shoulders tighter around herself. "Maybe I should go change."

"No, it's fine. I'm just a little... Surprised." That was putting it mildly. He was shocked by how different she looked, how much older and more alluring. 

"In a good way or in a bad way?"

"In a surprised way." He walked around the car and opened the door for her. "Coming?"

She squinted at him. "Are you trying to disguise your chivalry by being rude? It's not working too well."

"It's working just fine," he mumbled, giving her a light nudge to get her moving and slamming the door shut the moment she was safely inside. He wasn't exactly sure why, but every time she pointed out he was being less of a jerk, he felt the need to prove her wrong.

She just giggled like the insane fool she was and waited for him to get into the car.

"Seriously," he mumbled as he turned the key in the ignition. "How can you stand me?"

"You have your good parts."

"Such as?"

"Such as taking me out to dinner."

He huffed. Yes, of course. His brilliant idea of taking her out to dinner. He was a damn moron. But even as he became very aware of that, he continued driving, making small talk with her about his car and how she liked Mustangs because they looked cool. The more they spoke, the more he was convinced that she was actually infatuated with who she imagined him to be, not who he really was. It sunk his mood and by the time they reached the neighborhood where the restaurant was, he had half a mind to turn back.

But he pulled over in the first available parking space and killed the engine. Millie glanced out the window, looking confused.

"Is it here?"

"Half a block away, but I don't think I'll find a closer parking spot."

"Yes, true. I never think of stuff like that since I don't actually have a car to drive around."

He closed his mouth before he offered to let her drive his. She was probably terrible and he really liked his car.

He got out and headed over to her side, but she'd fortunately moved her own butt and hadn't waited for him to come over and open her door. The two of them started off down the street, towards the restaurant. After about ten steps, her knees knocked together and she almost toppled over before catching herself.

The tiny incident returned his good mood as he saw a gateway to familiar and comfortable interaction. "You alright there?"

"Of course," she said, squaring her shoulders and walking on.

About twenty steps later, she faltered again as her legs wobbled. He caught her this time, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

"Smooth."

"Shut up," she muttered.

"Why don't you just admit you're hopeless on heels?"

"Am not!"

And she walked off again, this time tripping much faster. He took her hand and nudged her forward, helping her walk the rest of the way.

"No. Wait." She stopped and pulled her hand out of his.

He turned to her. "What?"

There was a moment of silence as she rubbed her arms and looked away, seeming embarrassed. He wondered if it was because they'd been holding hands, even if it was obviously functional.

"Millie, we do need to get to dinner," he pointed out once she stayed silent and refused to move.

"I just..." she whispered, letting the words fade. "Lullaby."

He tilted his head. What could it be that she needed to feel safe about it?

"Okay, what's up?"

"I don't want to hold hands with you just so that you can help me walk." Her voice was so low, he barely heard it.

"And why would you need the safe word to tell me that?"

"Because I don't want you making fun of me."

"Over heels?" Why was that a sensitive subject?

"No, of course not." She sounded confused now. "Over holding hands."

He huffed and rolled his eyes, but then realized it was the kind of reaction she probably didn't want. "Look, I just wanted to help."

"I know. That's the point." She gritted her teeth, then took in a deep breath. "Nevermind. Let's go."

He followed her, once again ready to catch her when she faltered. He knew what she meant, but it was something he didn't want to get into either.

♣️

"Really? A French restaurant?"

Millie glanced at the entrance, not knowing if she should feel flattered or exasperated. All she knew was that she no longer wanted to feel embarrassed, so she was glad they were finally there.

Davyn gave her that lazy smile she'd gotten used to. "Of course. Don't want you to forget you're French now that you no longer have the braids."

"You do know I'm actually born and raised here, right?"

"Your mother's still French, darling. Makes you pretty French as well."

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore how the way he called her darling sent flutters into her stomach. It had started out derogatory, but lately, the way he said it, it actually sounded like he meant it.

Since she no longer protested, they stepped inside and Davyn worked his magic to get them to their table. Millie didn't pay attention much, busy admiring the place. She'd never been to France, but this place was fairly small and intimate and seemed to fit the descriptions in her mother's stories.

A sudden and all-consuming longing to see her mother overtook her, but she pushed it back, determined to enjoy this weird evening and make Davyn's birthday a little bit better. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling it hadn't been the greatest.

"It's a really nice place," she offered as they had a seat at their table.

"Glad you like it."

"Have you been here before?"

"No, but my mother used to gush about this place, so I thought I'd try it." The words were joined by a bitter smile and she got the feeling his mother was a sore subject.

So, even if she was curious out of her mind to ask more about his family, she discussed the menu instead, pointing out all the dishes she knew from her mother's stories. To her delight, he let her order for him, so she picked out the fanciest thing on the menu.

"You can pick whatever you like," he pointed out. "My birthday, my treat."

His words made her blush. "You don't have to do that since I didn't get you any present."

This got her another eyeroll. "Why would you?"

Very good question. It would imply putting a label on their relationship and she could tell he didn't want that. To be honest, she didn't either. Not yet at least.

Her thoughts screeched to a halt once the waitress turned up to take their order. She glanced at Davyn, a warm smile on her face. He grinned and just leaned back, nodding towards her.

"Lady's choice."

The waitress turned to her, looking a lot less interested. Trying to keep the fumes from coming out of her ears, she politely placed their order. She shouldn't be surprised. Davyn was indeed a lot more interesting than her, looking all movie-star handsome. Of course the waitress would stare. After all, he was unfairly good-looking wearing a simple shirt and jeans.

It was hard for her not to keep staring, not to be drawn into his mystery and the curve of his lips when he smiled. The way he'd held her hand and how he kept looking at her as if he knew all her secrets and was ready to unravel them one by one.

They hadn't even kissed that evening. Was it a good sign? A bad one? Oh, how she wanted to do it, mark him as hers, but they were sitting across from each other, the tiny table suddenly much too big.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked with a grin that suggested he already knew.

"Nothing," she mumbled, wishing she'd kept one of the menus to disappear behind.

"That dress looks good on you, but jealousy somehow looks better."

She bristled, even if she recognized the truth in his words. "Why would I be jealous?"

He narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table towards her. The satisfied glint in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"You tell me. Do you feel like I belong to you? Like you have some right over me?"

"Of course not," she said quickly. "You're your own person."

The grin on his face only grew. "Very true. But that doesn't mean you don't want it."

She really didn’t like the way he was looking at her. It made her heart beat much too loudly. "Want what?"

"To have me."

The answer was simple and she found it to be true. The idea to call him her own was very enticing, but why would she? And what did it mean?

"You can't own another person," she said with a huff.

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice low and sensual. "And when you do, the feeling of power is more intense than any aphrodisiac."

Her mouth instantly dried and she did her best not to shiver. "How do you even know that?"

He relaxed and leaned back into his seat. "I don't. I'm only anticipating what will come."

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but changed her mind. She really didn't want to know. Because the implications were already sending her mind spinning and this was dangerous. She couldn't fall into this while he stayed aloof. He needed to prove that she was more than a plaything to him before she allowed herself to care, to give him anything truly important.

But as the waitress returned with their food and a dazzling smile for Davyn, she realize she'd already given him her first kiss and her first date. Her first panicked getting-ready session. Her first desire.

He seemed to read her mind because the smile he gave her was more tender than mean. "Don't worry, darling. I'm here with you. And that definitely means something."

His words filled her chest with warmth, so she could spend the rest of their dinner making small talk about France, Europe, where she wanted to travel, and what she wanted to see. He listened, giving her little input, but asking enough to keep the conversation going.

"Who knows?" he finally said as they were having their dessert. "It might be fun to backpack through Europe with you."

She narrowed her eyes, even if her heart was pounding against her ribs. "Is this a promise? Like the World Cup cup thing?"

He hummed, drumming his fingers on his chin. "We need to take that into consideration. Wouldn't want backpacking to keep us away from the World Cup."

"I don't like soccer that much. I'd rather backpack."

He grinned at her. "Football, darling. You're embarrassing your ancestors."

This made her laugh, just like his obsession with her French heritage, but it lightened the atmosphere considerably, so it was easy to continue the small talk as he drove her back.

"Thank you for dinner," she said once they reached the dorm parking lot. "It was a great choice. The food was delicious."

"Then what are you thanking me for? You picked it."

"You picked the restaurant."

He just gave her a shrug, though he was actually smiling. An honest smile, not one laced with bitterness or sarcasm.

"I hope you had a good time," she added.

"Wasn't I supposed to say that?"

"Well, it was your birthday and I hope you had at least a bit of fun."

He considered this for a moment. "I did. And you helped. Thank you."

The way he said it, the honesty in his voice... It was something else, something so different from their usual interactions. It was one of the things that gave her hope that there was so much more to him. Something amazing hiding underneath the machiavellian glint in his eyes. He was a good person and he deserved to be happy.

And fortunately, she knew just how to do that. So she leaned over and gave him a long, lingering kiss, putting everything into it. He put his hand behind her head, holding her there, answering her with an intensity that had her mind spinning. His other hand settled on her hip and she could feel his need to run it under her skirt. The thought gave her a strange thrill. Maybe...

She took his hand and slipped it on her knee. The feel of his warm skin on hers drew a moan out of her. He tightened his hold on her knee, riding up just a tiny bit, but it was enough to make her shiver.

"You're not ready, darling," he whispered as he pulled away.

He was right, she wasn't, but she wouldn't admit it. "Happy birthday, darling," she whispered back instead.

It drew a laugh out of him and he gave her one more kiss before she finally left the car and headed for her room.

Her head swam and a pleasant warmth engulfed her body as she made her way up the stairs. At some point, she took those torturous shoes off and continued her way barefoot. Yep, she'd liked this and she hoped she really did manage to make his birthday better.

When she opened the door to her room, she was a little disappointed that her roommates were still up. She would have much rather daydreamed on her own rather than answer their questions.

"How was it?" Diana asked the moment Millie closed the door behind her.

"Fine. Fun." She made her way towards her bed. "Thanks for the dress and shoes."

"Did he like them?" Diana hugged her pillow to her chest, grinning.

"I think so. He's not one for compliments, though."

Karen huffed from her bed. "No one wants to hear about your dumb date," she snapped.

"We do!" Bianca said. "That's why we're asking. Plus, the guy is insanely hot."

Yep, Millie agreed. Which made it even more surprising that he'd actually taken her out to dinner on his birthday. Out of all the people he could've chosen to spend his eighteenth birthday with, he'd chosen her for some insane reason.

With a wistful sigh, she let herself drop onto her bed. Something nudged her back from under the covers. With a frown, she reached out underneath. Her hand touched fur. Her breath hitched in her throat and she rolled out of breath, falling to the floor.

Diana and Bianca called to her through Karen's rounds of laughter as Millie took the covers off the bed. There was a dead rat there, soiling her sheets. Before she could help it, a strangled scream escaped her lips.

"What the hell, Karen?" Diana demanded, she and Bianca both pulling further up in their beds.

Karen just shrugged. "It's important not to forget where you really belong." The gaze she threw Millie was filled with hatred. "Now clean that up before it stinks up the room."

♣️♣️♣️

This chapter was such an odd ride (and longer than the ones before it, but hey, it happens.)

Davyn had a complicated birthday, Freider is back to his jerky ways and Millie... Do you guys think she fell yet? And Karen sucks.

Thanks for sticking around! All support is highly appreciated!