I'm a Stripper At An All Boys Boarding School? How Do I Keep This A Secret?

Rayden's POV:

She's wearing a baggy sweatshirt and yoga pants. Similar to what she's been wearing for a few weeks now. But she hasn't always dressed like that, right? She used to wear nicer clothes. Does she take my words that seriously?

Damn. She's not supposed to. She's only supposed to stop liking me, not hate me. Maybe I overdid it. I just have to show her I'm not that bad . . .

"What are you doing today?" I asked, making a sharp turn. We were driving back from the airport, and she was just staring out the window.

"I have homework." Oldest excuse ever.

"What about Later tonight?"

"Work." Ok, maybe that one was true. The girl works about three times a week. Is that normal? But I've never worked a day in my life, officially. Dad just sends checks . . .

"Are you working all week?" I asked, turning my head to see her give a stiff nod. "Tell them you can't."

"I already told them I would work all week. That's why I'm staying, I could use the cash."

"Rent tight?" I asked, remembering what she told me in the beginning. When we were friends. She gave a little nod, and I didn't push for more.

"Cancel for one day, then. Clear one day. For me? I promise, I'll pay for everything. Very chivalrous. I don't know what Griffin's been doing . . ."

She thought it over for a while, facing the window.

"Fine." She said, turning to face forward. Her face and voice held no emotion. "And Griffin pays for everything. What day?"

"Wednesday. And I'm pretty sure Griffin's got some stuff wrong."

"What are we doing?" She asked, turning to me. She looked . . . eager? I grinned.

"I'm going to show you how to have fun, remember?" She turned back to face forward, and thought for a while.

"Your definition of fun?" She asked.

"Yes. My definition." She raised an eyebrow.

"Well that's not much. What about my definition?" Was she . . . flirting? Just a little?

"What do you do for fun? With all your 'girlfriends'?" I asked, playing along with her game. But inside I was curious.

"I don't know . . ."

"What?" I asked, turning to her. "I can handle it."

"You sure?" She asked, looking out the window nonchalantly.

"Positive. What do you do, anyway . . . ." She smiled, and thought for a minute.

"Clubbing."

"Clubbing?" Seriously?

"Yup." I laughed, and she turned to me. "What?"

"So you get all your little friends and go to teen clubs?" She burst out laughing.

"Teen clubs? No way. Real clubs. Drinks. Fake ID." She managed to fit in. I nodded me head a little.

"Ok. I mean, it's ok if you wanna pick up girls . . . or guys, I guess. I still think I'll show you a better time. When are we going clubbing?"

"Hmm, Tuesday? So you have time to change your plans, if you need . . ."

"Hah! Yeah right! My plans are way more fun . . ."

Shit, I thought. I need some plans.

~~~

Darcy's POV:

Did I really just agree to take Rayden Clubbing?

The one who called me a whore like, everyday?

Not that I would take him to Fuego, I thought, writing down some answers to math homework. But it was true I went clubbing sometimes. The girls and I went a lot when I was new at the job. Plus, sometimes we like to show up really bad pole dancers. Not like that happens a lot, but once we have a few drinks . . .

We all had fake IDs. I have Two, actually. One says I'm 18 and the other says 21. Not that I need them to get in, If I'm going clubbing, I wear something that shows cleavage. Then they let you right in.

What club would we go to? I mean, there are a couple choices, ultimately eliminating Fuego. I immediately eliminated one owned by one of our customers . . .

I smiled, and filled in another answer to the math homework. This would be easy.