Lana stood outside the Orwell residence, gripping the strap of her purse a little too tightly. She had no idea why she was nervous. This wasn't a date—Dylan had invited Mason too. But still, she couldn't ignore the strange anticipation twisting in her stomach.
"You ready?" Mason asked beside her, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.
Lana took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah."
Mason rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing Dylan Orwell.
He was dressed more casually than before—dark dress pants and a fitted black shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone. The sight made Lana swallow a little too hard.
"You're here," Dylan said, his gaze lingering on Lana for a second longer than necessary before shifting to Mason.
"Yeah, and we're starving," Mason said, stepping inside. "Please tell me you didn't try to cook."
Dylan smirked. "I had the food catered. I figured I'd spare you from my cooking this time."
Lana followed Mason inside, her eyes wandering around the sleek, modern interior. The house was impressive—high ceilings, dark wooden floors, minimalist yet luxurious furniture. It was the complete opposite of her family's warm, rustic farmhouse back home.
As they entered the dining area, her gaze was drawn to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The view was breathtaking.
"You have a beautiful home," she said softly.
Dylan, who had been pouring himself a glass of whiskey, turned to look at her. "Thank you. Make yourself comfortable."
The dining table was already set, the smell of delicious food filling the air. Mason wasted no time taking a seat, while Lana hesitated for a moment before sitting across from him. Dylan took the seat at the head of the table, directly beside her.
As they started eating, the conversation flowed naturally. Mason talked about their classes, complaining about an upcoming project, while Lana listened and occasionally added her own thoughts.
Dylan, however, was mostly quiet. He responded when necessary but spent more time observing.
Or, more specifically, watching her.
Lana could feel the weight of his gaze. Every time she glanced up, she caught him looking at her, his expression unreadable.
It made her heart race.
Mason's phone suddenly buzzed, and he frowned at the screen. "I have to take this. It's my professor," he said, pushing his chair back. "Be right back."
Lana nodded, and before she could prepare herself, she was left alone with Dylan.
The silence stretched between them for a moment before Dylan leaned in slightly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. "I didn't think Mason would leave us alone this quickly."
Lana let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well… professors don't exactly have great timing."
Dylan smirked, lifting his glass to his lips. "Their loss, my gain."
Lana blinked. "Excuse me?"
He tilted his head, studying her. "It means I get to enjoy your company a little longer without my son playing chaperone."
Her breath hitched slightly, but she forced herself to smile. "I don't think Mason sees himself as a chaperone."
Dylan raised an eyebrow, setting his glass down. "No?" His voice lowered just slightly. "Then why does it feel like I'm being monitored every time I look at you?"
Lana's heart skipped a beat. "I—I don't know what you mean."
Dylan chuckled, slow and deep, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.
"You're not very good at lying, Lana."
She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. "I don't lie."
Dylan hummed, as if considering her words. "No, I suppose you don't." He ran a finger along the rim of his glass, his gaze never leaving hers. "But you do get flustered easily."
Lana's cheeks burned. "I do not."
Dylan leaned in just slightly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her. "Then why are you blushing?"
Lana clenched her fists under the table. "It's just… warm in here."
Dylan's smirk deepened, his voice dropping even lower. "Is it?"
Before she could come up with a response, Mason returned, plopping down into his seat with a frustrated sigh. "That was a waste of time. The professor just wanted to remind us about something that was already in the syllabus."
Lana took a deep breath, grateful for the interruption.
But as dinner went on, Dylan's eyes found her again and again, his smirk lingering as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.
And when dinner finally ended, and Mason went to grab his jacket, Dylan walked her to the door.
"Thank you for dinner," she said softly.
Dylan looked down at her, his expression unreadable again. "You're welcome. I hope this won't be the last time."
There was something in the way he said it—like it was more than just a polite invitation.
Lana swallowed. "I'd like that."
Dylan held her gaze for a moment longer before stepping back. "Goodnight, Lana."
"Goodnight, Dylan."
As she and Mason walked back, Lana couldn't ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest.
She was in trouble.