“You’ll pay me two hundred dollars to date you?” the guy says, looking far too pleased with himself. “Are you that bad of a date?”

Enjolras blinks. “What does that have to do with it?” he says sharply.

“Just it’s a bit more than I’d have expected, is all,” says the guy. “Makes me wonder if you’re a bad kisser, or something.”

Enjolras’ lips thin. “I’ll have you know that I am a perfectly fine kisser,” he snaps back, because not dating does not mean abstaining, and he’s been to his fair share of spin the bottle parties. “And also—” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, however, because the guy leans forward and kisses him. Enjolras’ last thought is that he was probably asking for that. But that too gets swallowed up in the sudden rush of blood to his lips.