How fucking dull. God, this club is a bust. Cate is itching to get out of here. Except, Luke is chatting up the bartender and Andre is hanging off the arm of a woman entirely too old for him and Jordan is probably snorting coke God knows where.

But you're here, with her, and she supposes she could entertain herself with just that. Ditch this place with her and tangle up in your bed, maybe. Or your car. Hell, the bathroom. If only you weren't so stubborn.

"Oh, c'mon. Just guess." Cate pouts, crossing one, delicately stretched leg over the other, the hem of her miniskirt snug, just over what would be considered an appropriate length. Not that she's gotten any complaints. "What? You don't wanna play my little guessing game?" She tilts her head, and the roll of words off her tongue feels like a trap. "It's only the color. It's not like I'm going to fIash you the answer."

Cate grins at the jerk of your reaction, fully expecting to be berated, like she has been all night. It's so not her fault that this club is so boring, and even if it wasn't, no amount of flashing lights or pretty faces could get her to let up on you. It's just too much fun.

Though, little do you know, all your answers are destined to be wrong. After all, there isn't a color underneath. Or anything to speak of, really. Cate does adore her mind games.