Credit to breathtaking__ for the steamy cover above! (fanning myself)

Thanks to diordrabbles for making me laugh in Chapter Six, I realize all of my readers still have trust issues after High School Hit List 😂😂

Have you guys seen the character aesthetics posted (just after the intro chapter)? ahh it was so exciting to make them. I hope you enjoy chapter seven (and felix 😉 )

I tried to stall.

"You don't exactly seem like the type, Felix," I said with a flirtatious tone. "But color me impressed. You're more of a gentleman than I thought."

Why wasn't he going to the party? Or was he, and this was his strange way of inviting me? It seemed too open-ended to be right.

"Of course, Josie, you didn't think I'd just flirt with you for two weeks and not do anything about it, did you?"

I narrowed my eyes. What was he playing at?

"Okay. Let's just say I have low expectations. Pick me up at eight. Plan something... fun."

I could only hope Penelope didn't fire me.

When I got home from class, I suddenly entered a panic. It was very clear to me that Felix couldn't pick me up from my place, I'd gone to so much effort to project myself as one of them, wearing Penelope's designer clothes and pretending money wasn't a problem to me. If Felix picked me up from here, then all would be proven wrong.

The only solution I had was to go to Penelope's building and pretend I lived in a different apartment. Maybe one of the huge units on the ground floor. I could wait out the front when he came around. It was that, or maybe Sebastian's house, but I wasn't about to explain my situation to him.

Reluctantly I started throwing together a bag. I was too scared to text Penelope, hoping I'd divulge enough information from an evening with Felix to make missing out on the secret winter party worth it. She was probably flying between European fashion capitals now, anyway. As I grabbed an outfit from my wardrobe, I saw the envelope. The one from mom I'd discarded days ago. Something within me guided my hands, and before I knew it I was packing it too.

I Ubered to Penelope's and let myself in. It was back to the quiet and tidy interior dream it had been when I'd first seen it, the whirlwind of Penelope now cleared. I dropped my bag on her bed and sat on the sofa, divulging in the luxury for just a moment.

And then my hands wandered back to the envelope. It was like the piece inside of me that loved self-inflicted pain was desperate for a hit.

I re-read its contents multiple times. Every time I skimmed each line, trying to translate the visible words to tangible feelings in my mind, it didn't sink in. I kept reading until the murky sky turned black, and my phone was buzzing.

Felix was waiting outside.

I wiped my eyes, quickly taking off my clothes and throwing on some jeans and a sweater much too cute for old Joss, changing bags and strapping on boots. I screwed up the paper, and aimed it towards Pen's trash, hoping I could erase it from my mind, too.

"I didn't know you lived here," Felix mused as he saw me coming from behind the complex. He was looking upwards to where Pen's apartment was. "It's funny, one of my friends does, too."

"Oh, really?" I asked, making sure my tone was high enough to be curious. "What a coincidence."

"You might know her." He looked at me carefully. "Penelope Aldgate. She's a model, now. Traveling internationally, doing crazy stuff."

"Oh yeah," I said. "I mean, I don't know her personally, but I've heard of her. I didn't know she lives here too. Super cool."

I bit my lip before I could ramble anymore. He held open the door to his car and I climbed on in.

"So what's the plan?"

"Well," Felix said, straightening in his seat. "Because you had no preference, we're going to my house."

I grimaced. "Seriously?"

He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes, looking out of the window. This was like every other Tinder date I'd gone on. An easy ruse to get sex on the first date. He could have at least put some effort in.

"You don't look impressed," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh no, I definitely am," I said. "Do you have Netflix? And only one pillow? Bonus points for no fitted sheet."

He laughed, turning down the radio which had been playing some electronic background music. "While those sound like pieces to an incredibly appetizing evening, I was thinking more candle-lit dinner and a bottle of wine. You're vegan, right?"

My mouth fell agape. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged. "I'm an avid social media user. I saw your Instagram page."

I blushed, realizing my Instagram page was made up of my pre-Penelope persona.

"You could have followed me back at the least." He chuckled.

I tried to ignore the appealing way his lips curled and the way his hands looked so strong as they cradled the gearstick, a vein pulsing in his forearm. Under any other circumstance—without the contents of my mother's letter echoing in my mind—I'd be squirming in my seat right now.

"So vegan food and wine?" I asked. "Where are we picking it up?"

"Oh, it's got to be constructed first. That's what happens when you cook a meal for someone, Josie."

I choked on my breath. The smartass. "I didn't realize you had intentions of actually cooking."

He looked towards me, and I was waiting for his trademark wink. But instead he grinned a broad smile. "I'm full of surprises."

Felix's house was a little more than I'd expected. It was a small space with a loft, hidden in a gated community and decorated with vintage antiques and pot plants I was sure he bought to be trendy. He parked his car in the garage and waggled his eyebrows, gesturing for me to get out of the car.

I'd never known what it was like to live alone. I'd either lived under what was quite frankly oppression beneath my parents—the memory bringing a sharp twist to my stomach—or in a cheap apartment with people who were practically strangers. Even Penelope's house felt like it was run by a dozen people. But, Felix's felt cozy as he switched on each light, the house coming to life.

His space was woodsey and shanty-chic, a worn looking rug adorning the floor and dark mis-matched pine furniture strategically placed around it. A spiral wooden staircase led to a loft, decorated with what had to be fake vine leaves.

"I even cleaned up for this."

I gave him a look of mock surprise, but I was starting to feel uneasy. This felt too intimate—too close of a look in to Felix Bradford's life. I wasn't here for him. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't be. It'd be a major conflict of interest.

"A drink?" he offered, and I sensed his discomfort at my silence. Even he was nervous.

"Sure," I said, trying to shake the tension from my posture. I sat on one of the stools by the kitchen bench, the cane whining beneath my weight. I smiled, the noise feeling oddly familiar. Homey.

He had a wine rack to the side of his kitchen, which seemed boujee, but I didn't say anything. I watched as he pulled the cork with a nearby screw, trying not to feast too long on the way his bicep pulsed. This was dangerous territory.

"And music?"

I raised a brow as he wandered over to a record player.

"Okay, now you're just screaming typical eff-boy. A record player?"

"Shut up," he said rather cruelly as he started playing soft jazz. "I don't care what you think, I'm going to be the guy with the record player who cooks for you in my kitchen. Trust me, I know how to host a date."

I stifled an eye-roll, still hating the use of the word date. It only made me feel guilty.

"And what do I do? Sit here and watch?"

"Yep. Sit there and look pretty."

I glared as he waved his finger at me, but then he reached for an apron from behind a cupboard and I nearly lost it.

"What?"

"Nothing." I choked back laughter as he tied it in a bow behind his waist. "Okay, I just really didn't pick you for this kind of guy."

Felix was the person who wore black to a white party, had a constantly fixed cocky demeanor and an Instagram page that satiated every dark aesthetic fantasy. And now he was wearing an apron in his shanty-chic kitchen.

"You never know what people are hiding, Josie."

I stiffened, the way he looked at me made me feel transparent.

"You're right, people always surprise you," I mused, taking the glass of wine he'd passed my way and sipping it.

"Yeah, I was surprised to see you lived in Penelope's building, actually."

I stopped myself from spraying my mouthful, gulping hard. "Um, what?"

"Yeah, in Candard Heights, I mean. I'm not one to make assumptions." He paused. "In fact, never mind, I sound like such an asshole."

"Wh-What are you saying?" I said, trying to play cool. "Are you judging me, Bradford?"

"Of course not," he said, waving me off. "It's just... I've seen you walking from the bus stop a few times. I assumed you were from... I know. It's a really bad assumption."

Shit. Someone who could afford the rent in Penelope's building would definitely not catch a bus to campus like a commoner.

"I have my reasons," I said mysteriously, looking at him from above the rim of my glass as I took another sip.

"I'm sure you do," he said slowly.

Seriously, was he testing me for something? Was this entire date just a test, to see what my deal was? He must have known something was up.

I felt the urge to leave—to run and call Penelope to warn her—but I couldn't act irrationally. I had to keep my cool.

"So why do you have no plans on a Friday?" I asked, changing the subject. I wondered if the others were at this secret party. Maybe he knew everything and this was simply a decoy. Holy shit, what if it was?

"Who says I didn't?" he teased, taking random ingredients out of the fridge. "Maybe I've been planning this all week. It takes a lot of courage to ask someone out, you know."

I felt my cheeks heat, and while his back was turned I reached into my pocket to grab my phone, typing quickly out of his view. "Well, I appreciate your bravery."

Is it possible Felix knows you hired me?

"How are you with spicy food?"

"Test me."

No. Do you think he's onto something?? Make sure he's not. Trick him. Act really into him, it'll stroke his ego. Do not let him suspect ANYTHING.

I gulped the remainder of my wine and stood up, peeking over Felix's shoulder. I had to go on my toes to even have a chance.

"Smells good."

He seemed surprised by my proximity. "I'm really bad at cooking tofu. Don't look."

I laughed and put a hand on his arm. "It actually smells really good."

He looked at me carefully. "Don't lie to me. I know better."

I looked at him beneath my lashes, trying to lean in enough for him to get the body language I was trying to express. That I was into him.

"I'd never lie to you."

His gaze held me for a handful of moments, the sound of jazz drifting away until all I could see was his lips. I was weak, I admit that, but in this case it was only helpful. I could only hope he felt my heart stutter too.

"Set the table, would you? I even have candles."

"You even have candles," I muttered beneath my breath.

I grabbed the cutlery and candles Felix had waiting in the kitchen and headed to his dining table, setting them down, making sure our seats were as far as possible from one another. His charm couldn't mask his skepticism. I was worried.

Over dinner our conversation was carefully pleasant. It switched between him asking a personal question and me dodging it by asking one of him. It was hard to pretend I wasn't broke, especially when I'd spent so long pretending I wasn't from a world where money was in abundance. I knew how bad it was to lie about my past, but I'd already done so much to escape it. Maybe too much.

"So your friend at that party," Felix said, topping our wine glasses up with more pinot grigio as I shut off his attempt to ask me about high school. "Did she make up with her boyfriend?"

I nodded. "Uh-huh. Infuriating. I think... he cheats on her."

I watched carefully, looking for any signs he was covering something for Cole. But there was nothing but interest behind his dark eyes.

"What an asshole," he said. "Why did she go back?"

I shrugged. "Love, I guess. Or what she thinks is love."

"You don't cheat on someone you love," he said slowly. For a moment I swore I caught a flicker of pain in his eyes, as if he was speaking from experience. My brows knitted together.

"Well, she doesn't know that. But she will," I said with a sad sigh. I placed my knife and fork on my empty plate and folded my hands in my lap. "Your cooking was pretty good, I'll admit."

The compliment seemed to brighten his mood.

"Thank you. Only the best for a guest."

He stood to collect our dishes and take them to the kitchen, something I'd never seen done at a dining table my entire life. I was contemplating that—the fact I'd never really had someone who wasn't a staff member cook and clean for me, when something caught my attention.

Felix had left his phone on the table, and though it was angled out of my view I leaned over to see the message that had lit up the screen. It was from Cole.

Crisis averted. Thanks.