Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Are you sure, Bridger?”
It takes nothing for me to say, “Completely. In every way.” I glance at the time. I have a plane to catch in the morning. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey.”
“And on Saturday, after we talk to him, we’re going out. We’re going to hit the town, and I’m going to kiss you on the street like you’re a sailor returning home.”
I’m RSVPing for that kiss right now. “Anything for you.”
45
RIDE OR DIE
Harlow
I’m counting down.
All day at work, I tick off the hours in my head. Then, I do it as I head home in the evening to get ready. As I finish my makeup, Layla comes by, banging on the door, declaring she’s here to help.
“What else are friends for but to help get you ready for a gala?” she asks as I swing open the door.
“You’re right,” I say.
She sweeps into my apartment and closes the door behind her.
I’m already in my red dress. I gesture to the back of it. “I can’t zip this up without you.”
She smiles slyly. “I knew you’d need me.” Layla spins me around and zips up the sheath dress.
I turn back to her. “How do I look?”
She eyes me up and down, assessing. “You look twenty-one and sexy.”
I laugh, like I’m dismissing the compliment. But that’s a damn good way to look when I see Bridger again.
I can’t wait. It’s been too long.
Layla dangles a pair of chandelier earrings from her fingers and holds out a tiny purse. “Wear these earrings tonight. I wore them when I landed my job. They’ll give you good vibes.”
I snatch them and the purse. “I need all the good vibes.”
“So is everything all set for tomorrow?”
I nod, nerves rushing through me as I put on the earrings. But even though I’m nervous, I’m also resolute. “I texted my dad. He’s coming over at noon.”
She gives me a you’ve got this look. “It’s all going to work out in the end.”
I swallow past a lump in my throat. “I hope so.”
One more night to get through. One more night, and then we’ll be free to be together.
Layla walks out with me, crossing through the lobby and to the street. I do a double take when I spot the red sports car at the curb—Layla’s ride. Ethan’s at the wheel, aviator shades on. He waggles them. “Hop on in, gorgeous,” he says. “Think of me as your chauffeur.”
I shriek, and I’m not even embarrassed by the high-pitched sound that comes from my mouth. “You guys are driving me to the gala?”
Ethan winks. “What else are friends for?”
“Everything,” I say seriously as I slide into the car, emotions climbing my throat. “You guys are for everything. And I love you so much.”
“You better, especially since you left the Virgin Society,” he teases as he peels out into Manhattan traffic.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to uphold all its values,” I say.
Ethan snorts. “Like getting out of this society,” he says, then licks the corner of his lips salaciously. “With a hot babe or a hot dude.”
“You go,” I say, and we cheer him on as he weaves expertly through traffic.
Soon, we reach the hotel, and they drop me off in front. I can’t think of a better way to enter.
Inside, I’m strung tight with anticipation. I’m wildly eager to see Bridger again. But I also want it to be tomorrow so I can kiss him in public already.
A quandary indeed.
I make my way through the bustling lobby, up the escalator, then down the hallway. When I’m ten feet away from the French doors, my phone buzzes in my clutch.
Grabbing it, I slide it open.
I’ll be there in five minutes. Xoxo
I glow a little inside. Maybe a lot. After tapping out a quick reply—Prepare to be impressed as l resist flinging myself at you when I see you—I head to the ballroom, tucking the phone back in my clutch.
We’re almost there. Tomorrow isn’t far away.
I lift my hand to touch the I on my necklace for strength. But then, I gently tap the chandelier earrings instead, picturing Ethan and Layla. No matter what happens with my dad tomorrow, I’ll always have my friends. They are my family now.
Feeling strong, I follow the sound of Unfinished Business, Sweet Nothings, The Dating Games.
My ten-year-old self would have floated to the moon to have waltzed in here. It’s as sparkly as I imagined more than a decade ago when I begged my parents to be their plus one.
Servers in white shirts and crisp slacks circulate with silver trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres. Gorgeous guests in reds, golds, fuchsia, and sapphire smile dazzlingly bright. Men in tailored tuxes—probably ones they own rather than rent—look polished and sharp. There are even a few women in tuxes.
I devour the sights—actors like Jude Fox, writers like Ellie Snow, and then, wow…is that Davis Milo over there, holding court with his Tony Award-winning wife Jill Milo? I shiver in excitement. In another corner, I spot Nick Hammer, the creator of a popular late-night animated show that was adapted into a Broadway musical.