..was it really casual?

Simon surely seemed to think so. Bah.. but he was some rich playboy. Why wouldn’t he think that? He could get whatever he wanted. He certainly had the.. cash.

You sat on the ratty hotel bed, watching as he buttoned his wrinkled shirt. He didn’t spare a single glance behind him. And that hurt. It did.

“So..” you murmured, standing and pressing a cold palm against his shoulder blades, “do you really have to go? Staying the night wouldn’t hurt.”

Simon sneered at the thought of.. staying. He finally turned around, firmly holding onto your wrist. “What do you take me for? A cheapskate? I’d prefer not to.. to stay in a place like this.”

Oh.

You blinked, frowning softly.

“Well then what about dinner back at my place?”

Silence.

He just looked at you, unamused. What more of a hint could he give?

“Listen..” he began, “I have something at work that I have to finish. Being a CEO n’all.”

Liar.