The Chemistry of Love(73)

He kissed me on the cheek. “Have fun.”

Marco had brought the Porsche, and I found it hard to walk quickly in these heels with the sidewalk so slippery.

“Here.” Marco offered me his arm, and I was unreasonably angry with him. I didn’t want to take it, but I wanted to fall even less.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said. I couldn’t sulk all night. We were supposed to be a couple. I couldn’t be mad at him for something that wasn’t even his fault. Maybe he’d just been trying to build me up during our game night. I shouldn’t care so much about his opinion. So I put my hand through his arm, letting him walk me slowly to his car.

He was so warm. And so tall, even with me wearing these shoes.

“Your lips are light pink,” he informed me. “They’ve changed color since you were inside.”

I felt mollified that he’d at least noticed that. “That’s what happens when I’m cold. That’s the easiest reaction to provoke. I want to test some others but haven’t had the chance yet.”

“Maybe tonight will be full of ups and downs and you’ll get your opportunity,” he said as he opened the car door for me.

I kind of hoped not. I was in the mood for just ups. When Marco got into the car, he asked me about my formulation process, and we talked about the lipstick all the way to the country club where the event was being held. He asked such smart and intuitive questions that it surprised me. Maybe he knew more about makeup than I’d thought he did.

“What about the color scheme?” he asked.

Again, a good question. “A typical mood ring shifts through all the colors in the rainbow—black, green, purple, blue, red, orange, yellow. I didn’t want that. There are some people who wouldn’t care what color lipstick they were wearing, but I think most of our hypothetical users would prefer that I keep it in the pinks and reds so that it’s more natural-looking. I could go more avant-garde going forward and make lipsticks that will have more variation.”

“I think that was a good call,” he said as he pulled up to the valet. The country club was large and intimidating-looking. A different valet opened my car door for me, and Marco was there, offering me his arm again so that I wouldn’t fall.

I took it without hesitation this time. I was mostly over him not saying anything about my outfit.

Mostly.

“This is impressive,” I told him. I didn’t know anything about architecture, but it was obviously expensive.

“Yeah, this place is harder to get into than obvious joke here,” he teased. “With my family, the more exclusive the better. Craig will be impressed that you’re here tonight as my guest.”

I hoped that wasn’t true, but I was finding that I was a lot more willing to believe that Craig might not be the guy I’d thought he was.

Honestly, it was hard to compare anyone to Marco, because everybody was going to come up short.

Inside, there was a coat check, and Marco helped me remove my coat. I didn’t know why that gesture was sexy, but it was. Oh. I realized that it was because he was helping me undress. My cheeks flushed as I imagined him finishing the job someplace private.

“Your lips are more of a hot pink shade now,” he said. “What are you feeling?”

“Not really sure,” I said, trying not to choke. There was no way I was going to tell him.

I looked at the crowd of people in the club for this party. They were dripping in diamonds and couture dresses. No one here would believe that Marco and I were together.

Some people had calm before the storm. I had panic before the nothing.

I took him by the hand and led him into a family bathroom and locked the door.

“You’re not going to get drunk and cry now, are you?” he asked, sounding alarmed.

Feeling anxious, I started twisting my mother’s ring around my finger. Marco, of course, noticed. “That’s pretty,” he remarked.

Oh, so the ring was pretty, but he didn’t have anything nice to say about me? I fortunately didn’t say that part out loud and rambled a little. “It’s my mom’s wedding ring. The gem’s not real. My dad got a cubic zirconia because that’s all they could afford. He wanted to replace it with a real diamond. Besides my earrings, it’s the only nice jewelry I own. I mess with it when I’m nervous, and I don’t usually wear it very often because I almost lost it once, but I wanted it with me tonight.”

“Oh.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you eat today?”

It was a fair question. He knew that I tended to skip food when I was busy working on a project. “I had Pop-Tarts for breakfast because I’m in favor of supporting the American economy.”

“Do you know what’s in Pop-Tarts?” he asked.

I didn’t bring him in here to discuss my ring or Pop-Tarts. Before I could change my mind, I blurted out what I wanted him to do. “Give me a hickey.”

Long pause. “You want me to do what?”

“A hickey. I know you were a little behind in the romance department growing up and may not be as familiar, but if you . . . I don’t know, mark me, then people will believe we’re together.”

This was it. Rock bottom. I was begging a man to touch me.

“Or we could just tell them that we’re together. With our words,” he said slowly, as if I was having some kind of breakdown.