I didn’t want to be the first to waver. Not again. But it seemed like he was an unwavering mountain, someone I couldn’t hope to best in staring contests or anything else. Instead of breaking eye contact, Theory decided to break the silence.

“Something on your mind?” He smirked.

“Uh, well… I never asked if you liked vodka Red Bull…” I blurted, belatedly realizing that I hadn’t given him an option to pick out something he liked.

“I don’t really have much of a preference. Clears are good, like you said.” He continued smirking while tilting his head, evaluating me as if I were something fascinating to behold.

“…” I remained silent, gazing back at him in the same way, though less confidently.

“Hey, um…” Theory was the first to look away, surprisingly. The smirk he had been sporting slipped into a slight frown. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before turning back toward me and saying, “I wanted to apologize for my father being a dick earlier.”

“Why should you apologize? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I furrowed my brow, recalling the unpleasant scene.

“Hah, try telling him that…” Theory gazed up at the night sky and sighed.

“Sorry to say this, but your dad seemed like an asshole. I could feel his annoyance, anger, and judgment radiating from his aura earlier… Maybe that was part of the reason that I reacted so poorly; his emotions must’ve rubbed off on me.” I reasoned aloud.

“Does that happen often?” Theory asked, seemingly skipping over my blunt observation of Wyatt.

“I’m sensitive to people’s auras, which can be a bit draining, but I typically can distinguish between my feelings and the ones I pick up from someone’s aura. It’s rare, but if someone is projecting strongly enough, it can become difficult for me to recognize their emotions as foreign to me. I don’t usually have trouble managing my magic, so that’s the best guess I have for what happened.” While I rationalized, I began preparing our drinks.

I slid the two tall glasses toward my side of the small circular table that was nestled between our plush lounge chairs. As Theory studied me in silence, I swiped the bottle and began pouring. The situation reminded me of a video.

“-Two shots of vodka!” I mimicked the phrase from the video I had seen, where a woman poured what seemed like way more than two shots into a glass. I giggled at myself while moving on to the next glass.

I had a habit of quoting videos or internet memes that I found funny or relatable. Sometimes it felt like I was practically compelled to say them, or they would be stuck circling around in my head. I would also occasionally burst into song if a song got stuck in my mind. There had been a few instances where people had been put off by it. Realizing my habit could come off as weird, plus the fact that I had been giggling at myself, I schooled my features and dared a glance up at Theory. He was comfortably reclined with his elbow resting on the arm of his lounge chair. His head was propped on his fist, which partially concealed his amused grin. His baby blues were locked onto me even behind his lowered lashes, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. 

“Ah, uh, I was quoting this funny video--” I started to explain automatically before Theory interrupted.

“Oh, I know. My favorite version of it is the one where it cuts to a person falling down the stairs.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I nearly died laughing when I first saw that one! I could hardly breathe!” A smile bloomed across my face as I realized that I didn’t need to explain or worry. Theory understood and seemed even to appreciate my little habit. It felt nice to feel comfortable enough to indulge in certain habits that I learned to justify, contain, and hide in most social situations.

I scooped some ice into each partially filled glass before mixing in the Red Bull. While sliding a glass toward Theory, our eyes met yet again. His large hand reached out, his fingers grazing mine before I pulled away. The heat of that slight caress lingered for only a moment. The loss of that warmth left my hand feeling especially cold. I rubbed my hands together, figuring that their chill was brought on by fishing the cans of Red Bull out of the ice-filled bucket.

Theory patiently waited for me to warm my hands and grab my glass. He held his glass over the table in my direction. I mirrored him. We clinked our glasses before raising them to our lips. I hummed in satisfaction as the blissful concoction coated my tongue. I drank greedily, hoping to shake off the remnants of Wyatt’s aura. My body warmed as the vodka entered my bloodstream, though my fingers still felt cold. 

“How is it?” I inquired. Hoping that he was as satisfied with his drink as I was, I waited for his answer with bated breath.

“It went down smoothly. I had expected it to taste stronger with how much vodka you poured in.” Theory examined his drink, swirling the liquid in his half-empty glass. 

“College life has forged me into something of a professional mixologist. There are other variations of this that I make, too. If you want more sweetness, you can add a splash of grenadine. You could also add cranberry juice. I do that sometimes when I want to switch things up, or you could use different flavored Red Bulls.” After downing most of my cocktail, it seemed my tongue had loosened even further. I began gushing about different mixtures I had tried and which ones I liked the best.

All the while, Theory sipped his drink, listening to me attentively. He occasionally threw in suggestions, helping me come up with new concoctions to try in the future. When both our glasses were emptied, I filled them up eagerly. He was really easy to talk to, and I wanted to continue talking, so I did just that. Though as I drank, I became increasingly bothered by my corset. The chairs were so comfy, and the atmosphere was great, but the corset was like a thorn in my side. Regardless of how I sat, it bothered me in some way.

“Hey, Theory, could you do me a favor?” I asked sweetly, my words slurring ever so slightly.

“What kind of favor?” Theory’s eyes narrowed as he grinned.

“If I don’t get out of this goddess-be-damned corset, I think I might lose it.” I smiled, leaning forward onto the table with my elbows and resting my head in my palms. “Can you help me take it off?”

“…” Theory’s smile faltered, and he blinked, trying to process my request. “You want me to… Help you… Take off your corset?”

“Yes! Pretty please, with a cherry on top!” I responded adamantly, tenting my hands to express my desperate plea.

“Right here? Right now? And you want me to do it?” Theory seemed utterly baffled.

“Yes! There’s nobody else here but you. I need you to loosen the ribbon on my dress, unlace my corset so I can slip it off, and then retighten the ribbon on my dress. No biggie!” Since it seemed he needed convincing, I employed my best pout and puppy dog eyes as well. 

“Ah, fine. Just don’t forget that you asked for my help. I don’t want you getting all shy and defensive later.” Theory huffed before standing up and slipping behind me.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m a witch and a theatre kid. I’m used to changing in front of people. You can’t be too shy when you dance naked under the moonlight or must make do with co-ed changing rooms in a tiny theatre.” I rambled as he tugged on one end of the ribbon securing my dress. 

Dancing naked in the moonlight wasn’t necessarily something that happened often, but I was fairly desensitized to full and partial nudity thanks to the experiences I’d mentioned. Plus, I was only taking off my corset. I still had a slip on underneath it, so it wasn’t like he’d be seeing a lot. Even knowing all that, I couldn’t deny the tension and how sensual it felt to have a handsome man carefully unravel my dress. I heard him grunt softly, and I peeked over my shoulder at him. He was oddly crouched since I was still sitting.

“Do you want me to stand? I can lean against the railing… Or if you’d be more comfortable, I can scoot up and straddle my chair so that you can sit behind me while you work. That way would probably be the most comfortable for us both.” I offered the suggestions. I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable while fiddling with all the damned crisscrossed fabric.

“Uh, sure. If you’re okay with it, why not?” Theory shrugged, backing away while gingerly holding my dress’s ribbon so that it wouldn’t touch the ground as I swung one leg over the chair and scooted forward enough for him to squeeze behind me.

“Come here,” I patted the spot behind me and smiled up at him.

“You really are something else, you know?” Theory huffed a laugh and settled behind me on the lounge chair.

I giggled. It was somewhat validating to hear those words from him. I leaned forward, making sure to sweep my hair over my right shoulder so that it wouldn’t get in his way. With my hands on the edge of the chair, I braced myself, angled forward so Theory had easy access to the back of my dress. His proximity was accompanied by a delicious heat that radiated from him and enveloped me. I had been ignoring the chill that the breeze from the ocean had brought on up until that point. As his hands roamed and tugged at the ribbon, warmth seeped through the fabric of my dress and into me. 

Once he loosened my dress enough, Theory began unlacing my corset. Each yank and tug delivered me closer and closer to the freedom I ached for. When it was finally loose enough to try to slide off, I shimmied to pull it over my breasts and shoulders, but began to struggle. I grunted and wrinkled my nose impatiently. My arms were slightly stuck above me.

“Hey, strong man. Can you pull this over my head for me? I’m a little stuck.” I made a show of my last-ditch attempt to break free. He began to laugh in earnest, which sent vibrations rumbling through the chair we sat on.

“Here, lean back so I can get a better grip on it.” Theory pulled me by the waist back toward him before grabbing the top of the corset and liberating me from its clutches with one powerful movement.

“Ohhhh, that’s the stuff!” I groaned, falling back against Theory. His body was firm and delectably warm against my back. I had to resist the urge to nestle into him further. Tilting my head to the right, I peered back up at him, “Thank you! I could literally kiss you right now.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes?” Theory’s eyes twinkled with mischief. 

He reached around with his left hand to plop the corset in the space in front of me before cupping my chin and slowly sliding his thumb across my bottom lip. My eyes fluttered as I held my breath, but I didn’t want to miss seeing the look on his face. His eyes were momentarily transfixed on my lips as he dragged his thumb down toward my chin until my bottom lip sprang back into place. I lightly bit my lip, wondering if he would finally kiss me. I had been half-joking, but now, I wanted it with every fiber of my being. 

Instead, Theory slowly, softly caressed invisible patterns on the left side of my exposed neck with his fingertips. His gaze eagerly followed the trails his fingers left. Eventually, his large hand rested on my left shoulder. Those blue-gray eyes found mine, and a mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. He leaned closer, bringing those lips to my ear.

“Lean forward, I’ve still got to tie your dress back up.” Theory whispered.

“Ugh, you tease,” I whined, still complying with his demand.

“As a gentleman, I cannot, in good conscience, accept a payment for a request that has yet to be fulfilled.” Theory chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. I slipped my off-shoulder bell sleeves back onto my arms and allowed him to fix up the ribbon on my dress.