Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry. You scared me,” I say in a rush, bending down to pick up the water, but dropping half the packets in my hands to the floor as I do.
Mr. Banks bends down to help me, but I try to shoo him away with shaking hands. “I’ve got it, Mr. Banks.”
He ignores me completely, though, managing to grab five of the packets and hand them to me as we both stand back up.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, June,” he says, concern creasing his normally plump cheeks. “Are you feeling sick today?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Why?”
“You’ve been standing here drinking water for a while. Normally, you’re on the move.”
“Oh!” My laugh is loud and awkward and completely weird. I pretend it isn’t. “I managed a quick workout at lunch.”
His chin jerks. I’ve never, in all the years the man has known me, done an actual workout that wasn’t for the greater purpose of an activity. Paddleboarding? Yes. Swimming? Yes. Gym-ratting on my lunch hour? Not a freaking chance.
“Not an actual workout workout,” I hedge, swallowing hard around the bulge of lies. “But I ran up and down the stairs shuffling files back and forth, and in heels like these, it’s, like, an extra challenge, you know? Really gets those calf muscles burning.”
He eyes me curiously, so I give his shoulder an awkward pat.
“All good in the marketing hood, Mr. Banks,” I say as I adjust the packets in my arms, bulldozing right over his open-jawed preparation to talk by chattering on. “You need me to do anything else for you before your meeting at three?”
He shakes his head, but it’s slow and his eyes are still searching my face like he’s trying to figure out if I’m in the middle of a psychotic break. And I kind of am, so good for him for being so on the nose.
Immediately, I spin on my heel, just as Seth and Madeline are walking out of her office and heading for the elevators, and I offer a little wave to Mr. Banks as I do. “See you later, boss! I’ll leave these in your office.” I gesture with the folders of copies and smile. I know I must look scary, but I don’t acknowledge it.
Instead, I head directly for Mr. Banks’s office, drop off the packets on Denise’s desk, and then make a detour to Beau’s office next door. He’s not inside, thank God, so I snag a Post-it from his drawer and scribble out a note as fast as I can.
My message is simple.
Meet me at Midnight. 9 p.m.
-Mystery Woman
PS: Don’t bring any balloons.
The time on my phone switches from 8:59 to 9:00 p.m., and I pull open Midnight. My heart races with excitement as I put in the Dream Code and open the chat, ElizaBeth has reentered the chat appearing in the little box.
My knee bounces against the surface of my bed, ruffling my comforter and making my headboard shake just slightly. For literally every other venture in life, Beau is early, but for our chats, he’s always late.
Which is a universal joke meant to torture me, I assume.
“What are you doing?” Avery asks, entering my room so dramatically the door slams into the wall and makes my teeth chatter.
I bobble my phone in my hands, dropping it onto my comforter before snatching it right back up to keep it safe. “My God, Avery. Knock much?”
Avery’s brows draw together. “Like I’ve ever knocked on your door in my life.” She chuffs. “Anyway, I just came in to see what time you want to leave.”
It’s then that I realize she is dressed to the nines in a sparkly silver top I’m almost positive is Chanel Couture, leather Givenchy pants, and yet another pair of Louboutin heels she runs through like water.
She’s the rich Miami girl personified, and unlike me, she lives for it.
“Leave for what?”
She rolls her eyes. “For Oceanview, duh. You promised we could go tonight.”
Oceanview is Avery’s favorite club in downtown Miami and one we’ve frequented on more than a hundred occasions. Back in college, I was a lot easier to drag along, and Avery talked her way to a C in every class enough to keep her dad off her back, so we were considered regulars in every way you can imagine.
We did have a conversation earlier today in which I promised to go to Oceanview on Saturday, but seeing as today is still Thursday, this is Avery’s version of trying to pull a fast one.
“I promised we would go Saturday night. Today is Thursday.”
“Are you sure today isn’t Saturday?”
I roll my eyes. “Pretty sure, considering we had work today and the calendar says Thursday.”
“Okay, but, like, I’m ready now, so why don’t we just go?”
I shake my head and laugh. “No way, José. I’m already ready for bed.”
“For bed? Please, June, you’re just making my argument stronger. I mean, really, this is a cry for help.”