though she'd gotten six good hours of sleep, she was exhausted. She could go home and take a nap before going to Caché at nine, but she'd programmed herself to think of it as such a waste of time. It was barely two o'clock, she could easily slip in a couple hours running packages for a bike messenger service downtown.
Six grand may seem like a lot, but it'll go fast. Don't get lazy now.
January had thankfully been an unseasonably dry month – hardly any snow for Chicago, but it had been bitingly cold. While she walked across a wide lawn towards her bike, she started the process of wrapping a huge knit scarf around her head and neck. It made her look like a very chic homeless person, but it also prevented her ears from getting frostbite.
When she got to the bike rack, though, she stopped mid-wrap and gawped at the sight in front of her.
Ari Sharapov was leaning back against a car, just a couple spots down from her bike. He was in another suit, this time just a two piece, and looked as stylish as ever. He was tossing a set of keys up and down in one hand, but stopped when he caught her staring at him.
“Ah, there you are.”
Valentine didn't answer. She was frozen in place.
“You're quite the chameleon, you know,” he continued, walking towards her. “You look like a completely different person in the light of day. Do you do that so you won't be recognized?”
She stared at him for a long second, then shook herself back to reality.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing around.
“Looking for you. I thought that much was obvious,” he said. She glared at him. Seeing him in the day time, it was too real. It made everything too real.
“In case you've forgotten, you're fucking girlfriend goes to this school! You cannot be here!”
“I hate to be ungentlemanly, but Harper could be standing right next to me, and she wouldn't recognize you with all that shit wrapped around your head. Did you find it in a trash can? You look fucking awful,” he informed her.
“I don't care how I look. Just leave.”
Ari sighed, but he didn't leave. He actually took a step closer to her.
“Harper doesn't have classes on Fridays. She visits her family out in Winnetka for the weekends,” he explained, name dropping one of the richest suburbs in the entire country. “Get in the car.”
“You can't tell me what to do,” she snapped back. “We're not in the club, I don't work for you here.”
“True. But it's also fucking freezing out here, and you're not worth a case of hypothermia. Get in the car, Val.”
She wanted to tell him to fuck off. His presence annoyed her, but his attitude was even worse. So casual, so nonchalant. Like they'd never slept together the night before; she was simply his girlfriend's study partner, that was it. And here she was, wanting to crawl out of her skin and run away. It wasn't fair. She really was a different person in the club, she was much more commanding. Much bolder.
And much warmer. Fuck this, just get in the stupid car and hear him out.
She grumbled while she followed him, unwrapping her scarf as she went. She tossed it and her backpack into his backseat before dropping into the passenger seat. Then he stayed quiet while she proceeded to strip off her other excess layers – a thick winter coat and two hoodies. When she got down to the knit cardigan she practically lived in, she finally stopped undressing.
“I was beginning to think I was gonna get the full show,” Ari commented when she turned to face him. She rolled her eyes.
“You wish. And just because Harper isn't here doesn't mean this is a good idea. She has friends at this school – we're both fucked if she gets wind of this,” Valentine pointed out, gesturing between them. He laughed at her.
“Harper doesn't have friends. She has people who make her feel better about herself because they're jealous of her,” he replied.
“Paint it however you like. I need to do that project with her. I need that grade. If you fuck that up for me, I'll -”
Ari held up his hand and she instantly shut her mouth, then cringed. She hated how her body was set to auto-response when it came to him, it didn't even bother consulting with her brain.
“A bit of attitude is fun in bed, but not so