"Haltie?" I blurted unthinkingly.

The pitch-dark eyes hovering over me closed in irritation. "Been spending some time with Rokim, have you?" came a cold voice, washing over me and eliciting an involuntary shudder.

Dazed, I tried to blink my sleepiness away. "Uh, yeah," I replied, not thinking totally straight. "I mean, we slept together last night."

Rian's eyes widened slightly. As I watched them fill with black fire, I realized what I'd said. 

Shit.

"What did you say?" he ground out ominously, his voice glacial.

"Uh . . ." I scrambled quickly, trying to backtrack. "It wasn't like that. Lisa was there too."

"What?"

I closed my eyes in disbelief, cursing my own ineptitude. I needed a muzzle or something. How had they not invented an automatic voice filter yet?

Every damn year, this godforsaken day seemed to top itself, making sure each subsequent time was worse than the last. Apparently, this year the devils had sent me their king: Rian.

"I just mean," I said slowly, forcing myself to wake up, "that they slept over last night. Platonically. Just sleeping." 

In the same bed. That voice in my head chose this moment to make an appearance—wonderful. Then again, he doesn't need to know that.

He glanced away, running a hand through his sleek charcoal locks. I noticed that it wasn't falling freely over his forehead like it usually did. Instead, it was slicked back tastefully. 

In fact, all of him looked particularly tasteful—he was dressed in the same elegant getup as the day before, at the practice ball.

He also smelled really, really good.

I swung my legs off the mattress, the last traces of sleep leaving me. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Eleven o'clock."

I gasped. "Eleven p.m.?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, calm down. It's eleven a.m." He shook his head, and a few tantalizing strands of hair slipped away and fell to their normal place on his forehead. "Always so dramatic," he muttered under his breath.

I ignored the jab, instead letting out a sigh of relief. Oversleeping and missing the Evaluators' Ball was the last thing I needed. 

Relaxed now—or as relaxed as I could be with a hot demon two feet from my bed—I turned to Rian, looking him up and down. "Wait," I said confusedly. "The ball starts at seven. Why are you dressed already?"

He shrugged. "I like to be prepared."

I only snorted in response. My feet hit the floor, and I patted his rather muscled arm—even though I couldn't see it, the thought of that tattoo made my mouth water—as I padded across the room to my closet. "You need to lighten up a little."

And you need to stop feeling him up every chance you get.

I ignored that insufferable voice and instead opened my closet door, tying my hair in a messy bun. "Why are you even here, anyways?" I called over my shoulder, looking around for the bag with my dress in it.

"Prof asked us to run a couple errands," he answered indifferently. I groaned as I located the bag on the closet's top shelf, where I literally never put anything because I was too short to reach it. Rokim or Lisa must have stuck it there by mistake. 

"Your sleepover buddies let me in and then ran out," Rian continued lowly. "The blonde one said to enjoy myself, whatever that means."

I huffed, partially at their antics—leaving me here alone with him was no doubt part of some plan to help me "heal" or "reconnect" or whatever—and partially at my inability to grab the stupid bag. It mocked me, sitting high up there, out of my grasp. 

"They're both blond," I told Rian distractedly, stretching up in vain to grab the bag's twine handle. 

Then a hand closed over it, but it wasn't mine.

I froze as Rian's body pressed up behind me, every contour discernible through the fine fabric of his suit. It was exactly like that day we'd first worked together, except last time my hand was bleeding and I still believed he'd genuinely forgotten me. 

He smoothly lifted the bag off the shelf, bringing it to me. I lowered my outstretched hand and tentatively grasped it, trying to steady my hammering pulse. 

Rather than pull his hand away, he let his fingers trail down my wrist, over my arm, and up onto my shoulder. It settled there, and I resisted the urge to swallow apprehensively as he leaned down. He stopped when his face was parallel to mine. 

"I meant the natural blonde," he murmured alluringly, his breath tickling my ear. "The one you decided to enjoy on your kitchen counter, remember?"

My breath hitched. He pulled away, his cheek brushing mine, and let his fingers linger a couple moments longer than necessary before withdrawing them too. I stared, stunned, at my closet for a few seconds as my heart beat wildly. This was too much. I already lost control whenever he was around. 

And I very possibly lost my mind too, judging from the way that filthy voice whispered a million scandalous things I could do to him—if he ever chose to do something like that again, that is. None of them involved clothing.

"Uh . . ." I was speechless for the second time that morning. "What are the errands?" I finally managed, turning back to him.

Only to have my breath rush out of my lungs again.

He was unbuttoning his jacket. I watched as he loosened his tie and tugged it away, followed by the slip of his jacket coming his off shoulders. He . . . was undressing. 

In my bedroom. After having just set my skin on fire, in the good way, he was taking off articles of clothing literally two feet from my mattress.

What the actual fuck. 

He looked up at me, spotting my thunderstruck expression, and grinned wickedly. Actually grinned. If I wasn't completely winded before, I definitely was now—that smile was the single most terrifying thing I'd ever seen him do, and I wanted to see it on him again and again. 

He really is the devil, I thought dazedly, trying to overcome the rampant waves of desire surging through me. Thank goodness I'm a sinner. 

"Prof insisted I need to loosen up," he continued casually. "So the 'errand' is to go to various places he considers fun and . . ." Rian's wicked smile transformed into a smirk, as his eyes ran me up and down. "Enjoy myself."

I cleared my throat, finally regaining my wits. "Okay. Why are you, um." I eyed him as he tugged his dress shirt free from his fitted slacks, catching a glimpse of toned skin and that glorious hip tattoo. "Why are you taking your clothes off?"

"I'm not," he responded easily. "I just figure that if I'm being forced to have fun, I should at least look the part. Plus I'd rather not wrinkle the jacket before the ball tonight." He looked down at himself and spread his arms. "How do I look?"

I struggled to answer. With the jacket missing, the tie loosened, and the shirt untucked, he looked like an entirely different person. The mussed hair added to the ensemble, as did the ominous glimmer in his eyes. He looked just like he used to, before I left for France—a carefree, disheveled student with a penchant for mischief.

Who was also supermodel handsome. Couldn't forget that part.

"You look normal," I finally said, tearing my gaze away from him. "You know, like you haven't just stepped out of Forbes magazine for a change."

"That was the intention," he said, satisfied. He headed to my bedroom door. "So get dressed and meet me outside."

I blinked. "Wait, why do I have to come? I already know how to have fun."

He stepped out into the hall, but glanced back at me. "I guess Prof thinks otherwise. He seems bent on us spending as much time together as possible, unfortunately."

I scowled. I'd have a word with Prof about this later, but it didn't seem like I had much of a choice in the matter. 

And besides, I didn't feel like being alone. Not today.

"Fine," I muttered. "Get out so I can change, Haltie."

He chuckled darkly, closing the door as he left. "Anything for the belle of the ball."

♛

Twenty minutes later, we were on the road.

I glared out the window of the passenger seat. In the three years I'd been gone, Rian had apparently bought a car. How he managed to afford it was a mystery to me, but I wasn't gonna ask. I was in a mood.

In a huff, I'd called up Prof in my room to protest his plan for the day. All I'd gotten in response was a firm order to go have fun because it would be "good for me." Just because I didn't want to be alone today didn't mean I wanted to be with him! 

But Prof had insisted, so here I was. Glaring.

"Where are we even going?" I muttered, finally turning to my lovely chauffeur.

"Movie," Rian responded smoothly.

I rolled my eyes. "What movie?"

"Not sure. We'll figure it out when we get there."

"Delightful." I turned back to the window. I knew I was being a little unfair—Rian was being forced on this trip too, and I had no doubt that he was just as thrilled by the company as I was—but this was a day I'd been dreading all year. 

It just happened to fall on the same day as the Evaluators' Ball, but I hadn't planned on dealing with the ball until seven p.m. I had expected to spend this horrible day with Rokim and Lisa, eating unhealthy amounts of junkfood and binging Netflix originals. Then I'd make my annual trip to McDonald's and pray this was the year they finally fixed their ice cream machines.

In light of the circumstances, I could only hope there were some good movies playing.

"We're here," Rian announced, pulling up to our local theatre and parking. "Let's go."

I hopped out of the car and looked around. The lot was practically deserted. No one was here, which I guessed meant we could see any showing we wanted.

We walked into the building, and the first thing I saw was an enormous poster for a romance movie. My cheeks took an a pink tint—it was like something straight out of a Danielle Steel novel.

"Let's go for something action-y," I announced, looking around at other posters. "Anything Marvel?"

Rian glanced down at me briefly before nodding at a poster to my left. "Like that?" 

I turned, my eyes widening. "Yes!" I said with glee. Rian smirked at having guessed correctly, but I didn't pay him any attention. Maybe today wouldn't be as bad as every other year, after all. "I love crossovers. Let's do this!"

So we went to go see the movie. Let me tell you: it was the biggest mistake of my life.

Well, maybe not the biggest. But you know what I mean.

I was mid-rant as we emerged from the theatre. Rian walked alongside me, looking thoroughly amused. And strangely self-satisfied, too—I wouldn't have put it past him to have chosen that movie on purpose, just to rile me up.

"What was that ending?" I lamented, gesticulating wildly. "How could they do that to us? To their loyal fanbase? I was emotionally invested, and they just shat all over me!"

An older couple passed by us, eyeing me disdainfully. "Ugh," the man murmured. "Millenials." 

I scowled and made a very unsavoury gesture in their direction, which earned a shocked gasp from them and a chuckle from Rian.

Returning to the conversation, I continued my raving. Rian listened without interrupting, but that demonic smile soon tugged at his lips. "If it helps, there's a good chance the ending will be reversed in the next movie."

"I don't wanna wait till the next one!" I spun on my heel as we exited the building, narrowing my eyes at him. "And how do you know that the ending will be reversed?"

He shrugged again, a smug glint in his eye. "Money."

"What?"

"If it all ends here, they won't be able to make any other movies. And then," he paused, making a 'poof' gesture with his hands, "no more money."

I sighed loudly. "I hope so. Otherwise I'll boycott that franchise forever."

We reached the car, climbing back inside. Rian scoffed. "No you won't," he said, looking over at me. "You love it way too much to do that."

My next words died in my mouth. Rian started the car and pulled out of the lot, seemingly unaware of the double meaning to his offhand comment. 

I cleared my throat, determined not to ruin the high I'd gotten from the movie by looking for meaning where it didn't exist. I glanced out the window, watching the world pass by. "Whatever, then. My point is I won't be happy."

"I'm sure," he replied drily. After a moment, he opened his mouth again. "Speaking of happy," he said amusedly. "In the mood for a happy meal?"

I blinked, feeling everything inside me freeze. "What?"

Rian turned the corner, entering a lot for a fast food plaza. I slowly looked up to where he'd stopped, and found myself facing the bright yellow of the golden arch.

We're at McDonald's, I thought numbly. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that we'd come here, today of all days. I gazed over at Rian questioningly, and he inclined his head to the glass doors.

"I'm hungry, and McDonald's is cheap," he said simply, offering no more in the way of explanation. But I could tell: he knew exactly what the significance of this was. I only ever came here one day a year.

"It's your birthday, right?" Rian said. 

I only gazed at him mutely as he ran a hand through his raven-black hair. The silence stretched until he broke it again. "Prof . . . told me."

The hesitation was barely perceptible, but it was there. Suddenly I was sure—he didn't ask Prof anything. He'd known it was my birthday already, before we even came out here. 

Now that I thought about it, maybe this whole day was Rian's idea. I was already sure he remembered me, and I'd resigned myself to the belief that there was nothing I could do to change things, but this was different. He'd actually gone out of his way to help me have fun, on a day when fun was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn't know what to think.

Seeing my disorientation, he exhaled loudly and left the car. I stared into space the five minutes he was gone. When he came back, he handed me a bright red box. 

"Here's your happy meal," he said, a crooked grin on his lips. I took the box, unable to understand how he could have possibly known.

My father had taken me to McDonald's every year for my birthday. Even when I'd gotten older and outgrown the gaudy red boxes, he still insisted on getting me a happy meal. Only until I actually started looking my age, he used to say. He always poked fun at my height, but I secretly enjoyed it when he made those trips to McDonald's, every birthday without fail. It made me feel loved.

Now I was alone, and the memories brought tears to my eyes.

I blinked them back, remembering myself. "Thank you," I said unevenly. My grip on the box tightened. I still didn't know how he'd guessed that I still went to McDonald's every year, even in France, to get a happy meal exactly like this one. No one knew—not Rokim, not Prof. But I was grateful.

"No problem," came the response, softer than usual. Rian pulled out of the plaza and started driving. I ate in silence, still fighting to keep my roiling emotions at bay. 

I was used to being alone on my birthday, like I had been for the past three years. Instead, I was in the company of someone I'd run to France just to avoid. Life really was funny.

The clock in the car said it was 2:30 p.m. by the time I'd finished, and we were still on the road. I'd regained control now, and I figured that there was no point in questioning Rian on his random act of kindness. If he'd done the happy meal thing, then he probably chose the movie specifically to distract me from my thoughts, too. I didn't want to disturb the fragile peace we'd found, and I doubted Rian would be very forthcoming anyway. So I decided to simply ignore the affair altogether.

"Where're we heading now?" I asked, studying his profile. 

"Well, we've got about three hours before we have to return and prep for the ball," he began, making a left turn. He gave me a sidelong glance. "I see you've finished chowing down on your chicken nuggets."

My face burned. "Well, I wasn't gonna waste them!" I retorted. 

"They're nothing but tasteless white filth."

"So is a good chunk of the world," I countered. "Doesn't mean they're all bad."

Rian laughed at that, and it was a lovely, rich sound. I couldn't help but grin. As much as I hated to admit it, I really was having fun.

"Anyways," he continued, a suggestive note sneaking into his voice. "I tried to think of something we could do to kill the next three hours." 

My mouth went dry as we turned another corner, and the first thing to come into sight was a brightly lit hotel. Rian parked the car, and my heart skipped a beat. "O-oh . . ." I stumbled, flustered. "Is that so?"

"It is," he said, that wicked tone still in his voice. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me, cocking a brow devilishly. "Wanna come? I guarantee it'll be worth it."

My eyes widened. For the fiftieth time that day, my cheeks flushed red. "Uh . . ."

Rian spotted my blush, and his grin widened. "Oh, I see," he said, and his tone was almost . . . teasing. Seriously, who was he and what did he do with the real Rian?

He leaned forward, just enough to be invading my personal space. I stared into those fathomless black pools close-up, and he chuckled darkly. "The blonde was right, Hanna," he said lowly. "France did make you dirty."

My mouth dropped open in shock, and Rian reared back in laughter. My blush was fiercer than ever, and all I could do was glare daggers while his laughter boomed through the car. I actually loved seeing the facade break, but he didn't have to know that, right?

"God, calm down," he said with a smirk. "We're not going to the hotel, though I'm sure that would be fun in its own way." That earned him a swat on the arm from me, to which he feigned pain and grinned. 

"There's a plaza next to it with a bunch of different activities," he continued. "Bowling, race car track, karaoke, even a bar if you feel like it. This is your day, so we'll do what you want."

My glare faded as I simply stared at him, touched. Before today, I wouldn't have believed that the new Rian was even capable of being kind. But I was never so happy to be wrong.

I grinned. "You know I'm a bowling god, right? You're going down."

He smirked back before getting out of the car. "We'll see."

I hopped out after him, unable to keep the smile off my face. I started to believe, little by little, that maybe things could change. Maybe we could reconcile, maybe I'd get some of this guilt off my chest, maybe the episodes would go away. Maybe we'd spend every one of my birthdays together from here on out. 

Maybe we'd be best friends again.

It hurts me, now, to see how wrong I was. Because all those maybes? They were a mistake.

Mistake number five, everybody. The last one.

My dalliance with the devil was coming to an end. And by the time I remembered why I'd given him that name in the first place, it'd be far too late to back out.

But hey, who didn't love a little karaoke?