Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
She laughs. "And you want Professor Hottie to believe you're on a date."
"I told him a guy."
"Should we call Liam?"
"My brother."
"Half-brother."
"Because that's less disturbing."
"It is. And you know he'd agree," she says.
"He'll agree to anything. It's a personality defect."
"True."
"Gross. So gross."
"One of his friends? One of your friends. Oh… Alex."
"I broke his heart."
"You did," she says. "Cold Opal Pierce dumping the quarterback."
"He wasn't the quarterback. We didn't even have a football team. Where do you get this stuff?"
"Riverdale."
"That didn't happen on Riverdale."
"The spirit is there."
It is. And despite our lack of a football team, Alex fit the popular high school guy stereotype to a T. "Do you think he'd agree?"
"Probably," she says. "But he's at Yale. Oh, what about the junior who had a crush?"
"Is he even eighteen?"
"Oh… you need them legal now?"
"Oh my god."
"You're going to make all his dreams come true… do you think it will last twenty seconds? Or thirty?"
"No. The club. How will he get in if he's seventeen?"
"The same way we will. Fake IDs."
"How do you know he has one?"
"I helped him find it," she says. "Is the horny virgin thing not doing it for you?"
"It's not."
"I guess you're stuck with me."
"No." I shake my head. "This is crazy. Max isn't going to show up—"
"So we'll have fun dancing together."
"What if he does show up?"
"Then he wants you so badly he stalked your date."
That's true.
"And he's as crazy as you are."
Also true.
"And he'll be so relieved by your lack of a man on your arms he'll take you right there."
"In front of everyone?"
"Yeah, in front of everyone."
"What if he thinks I'm a liar?" I ask.
"You are a liar. You lied."
"Not helping!"
"Why don't you find someone?" She pulls out her cell and opens her swipe-to-fuck dating App. "Ask him to meet you there?"
"Isn't that your profile?"
"And?"
"And they'll be there for you."
"They're guys. They don't care."
"Only guys?"
"We'll only swipe on guys."
"Why do you have a dating profile? You have a—"
"You promised you'd stop."
I did.
"And you're in no position to judge my sex life. You dared your professor to stalk you to a sex club."
"It's not a sex club."
"Then why is the top review on Google 'best sex club ever.'"
"It's not."
"It kind of is."
Kind of.
"We can find you a date at the club."
I'm out with my friend, dancing until I forget my crush, that's all.
"You're right," I say. "He won't show. We'll have a few hours of fun and go home."
"And watch Pretty Little Liars."
"And I'll make chocolate-chip pancakes in the morning."
"Are you sure you're not trying to seduce me?" she asks.
"Don't even."
"Don't, what? Flirt? I'm an excellent flirt."
The train pulls into the station. Our stop. Already.
Izzie stands and offers her hand. It's a sweet gesture, the kind of thing a boyfriend does, the kind of thing Max does. I guess she's stepping into her role.
"Not necessary," I say, but I let her help me up and over the gap between the train and the concrete anyway.
"In those shoes, it is." She nods to my pink heels. "Aren't you cold?"
"The price of fashion."
"The price of Professor Hottie imagining you in nothing but your heels."
Ahem.
"You think straight men are the only people with those thoughts?"
"Are you picturing me naked?"
"You're not my type."
"You're a terrible date," I say.
She laughs. "Let's reset."
"Okay."
"Say your line."
"Is that necessary?"
She nods yes, go.
"Are you picturing me naked?"
"Not yet, baby. I respect you too much." She blows me a kiss.
I stick out my tongue. "It's not funny."
"It is, actually." She leads me up the stairs, into the cold night air. "I'm usually the crazy one."
I pull my coat tighter. March weather is unpredictable. Some days are warm, some cold, some clear, some pounding rain. Thankfully, there's no rain tonight, but the temperature is more suited to riding boots and wool socks. My toes are already freezing.
"Are those worth it?" She motions to my shoes again.
"They will be, if he's here."
"You think he's here?"
"No. But… maybe there is someone else, someone who will help me forget him."
She laughs.
"Hey!"
"Did you really lie to him?"
"Only about having a date for tonight."
"And you really think you sold it? 'Cause that was the worst lie I've ever heard."
"You're supposed to be supportive."
"Real friends tell the truth."
"Do I look good?"
"Smokin'." She offers her arm and motions to the club across the street. "Come on. Let's ace this."
"You'll catch me if I fall?"
"Always."
I take her arm and follow her across the street.
The club is straight out of The Matrix. High ceilings, concrete floors, industrial music. The patrons are in a mix of fetish gear and traditional cocktail attire.
It's crowded but not packed. There are a few dozen people on the dance floor, in various states of pre-hookup flirtation, and another two dozen around the bar, on the velvet couches on the edges of the spaces.
We stop at the coat check. The second I slide out of my wool cocoon, I feel naked. Somehow, my snug black dress is both too much and not enough. The harness neckline screams take me home and tie me up.