Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I know she’s been preparing for this trip, at least. The check I sent her was deposited on Saturday. And she’s been steadily using the credit card, too: at a salon, a spa, and at a whole range of stores on Rodeo Drive. She signed the contract, I tell myself. She won’t miss the flight.
Trying to relax, I sip my drink, sending warmth across my tongue and down my throat. A pair of shapely legs enters my line of sight, and I direct my attention to this much preferable fixation, lifting my gaze from pink-tipped toes, across the straps of gold high-heeled sandals, up smooth, toned legs to crisp white shorts, a soft short-sleeved blue shirt, the gentle curve of breasts, a long neck, full red lips, soft pink hair—
Pink hair.
Oh my fuck.
My eyes go wide, meeting Anna’s just as she stumbles, ankle twisting awkwardly on the skinny, murder-sharp heel of her shoe.
“Motherfucker,” she cries, collapsing into the seat beside me, seemingly unaware of the attention she’s garnered from both her incredible hotness and loud swearing. “Vivi said these would be easy to walk in. She’s a fucking liar. I almost flagged down one of those little airport cars.” She claps a hand over her mouth. “No swearing. My bad.”
I can’t find words. Now that she’s here, I realize I hadn’t even tried to imagine who might show up today. But this person in front of me is unlike any version of Anna Green I’ve ever seen. During the tenure of our roommateship, she never wore much makeup, and of course a few days ago in her apartment, she looked—I’m so sorry to say it—like a demented Care Bear. Today she looks like she stepped out of a Vogue spread. I half expected she’d change her hair, but now I’m glad that she didn’t. It’s bubblegum pink and falls around her shoulders in shiny waves. Her skin is glowing, eyes bright, nails…
“Wow, Green.” I stare at her hands and the sharp, shell-pink talons tipping each finger. “Those are—”
“Terrible,” she admits glumly. “I feel like a cat with tape on its paws.”
I bite back a laugh. “Why did you get them, then?”
“Vivi’s always look so fun and glamorous. Besides, I needed claws. I should be a lioness if I’m heading into the den.”
I can’t entirely refute this idea. I’ve been out of my parents’ circle long enough to understand how disorienting it will be for Anna to step into it. She bends her fingers, turning her hand and looking at them from another angle. Frankly, they’re so pointy I’m worried she’ll scratch her own cornea. “But I asked the woman at the spa what the really rich ladies get, and she said it’s this fancy hard gel. I think I get the urge to have fake nails. I feel like a badass.” Twisting in her seat, she deposits her purse in my lap. “Watch this for a sec?”
“Where are you going? We’ll need to head to the gate soon.”
“Bathroom.”
“Take your phone at least?” I call after her. She turns, opens the bag, and delicately plucks an ancient iPhone from inside.
I make a mental note to buy her a new one as soon as we return from the island, and watch until she disappears down a narrow hall, glancing away only after realizing I’d been staring directly at her ass.
The designer bag sits open in my lap. It feels lighter than it looks, holding its shape even though, without the phone, it appears to be relatively empty. Curious and unable to resist, I tilt my head to peek inside, and my heart does an unexpected twist behind my breastbone at the sight of the shaggy coin purse she must use as a wallet, the simple Burt’s Bees lip balm, her passport, and her scuffed house keys on the same UCLA key chain she’s had ever since we lived together years ago.
Anna truly has nothing.
And she is absolutely right: I’m taking a lamb directly into the lion’s den.
My phone buzzes on the small table near my knee, and I bend to retrieve it. There’s a text from her.
I need you for a sec
I stare down at the words. Did I not hear her correctly that she was going to the bathroom?
Where are you?
In the ladies’ room
I don’t understand
My phone rings, and I swipe the screen. Before I can say anything, she speaks, her voice a low whisper: “Can you please just come in here?”
“For what?”
“For… something. Just—come here.”
Oh God. I press my hands over my eyes and lower my voice, too. “This really isn’t necessary, Green.”
“What isn—”
“You don’t have to do that.”
The line goes dead silent before she bursts out, no longer whispering, “Oh my God, this is not for sex! Are you kidding me?”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not expec—”