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Yeah, Emma and I are a million miles apart. It’s a pretty sad state of affairs.
Wait. A. Minute.
I don’tneed to hang out with Emma. Hilde doesn’t have Emma’s phone number, and I’m not about to give it to her. Plus, with my parents being in a completely opposite time zone, they won’t call to check up on me—my dad will be too busy working and my mom barely acknowledges I exist. If I tell Hilde I’m staying nights at her house, no one will be the wiser.
With Emma as my unwitting alibi, I’ll be able to do whatever I want.
Ooooh. The possibilities are endless.
I don’t have to be Ivy Bright, heiress and perpetual goodie two-shoes. I can be whomever I want and do whatever I want, whenever I want to do it. No one is going to stop me.
Oh, the adventures I’ll have this summer! I’m going to try everything I’d never be allowed to do under the oppressive rules of my dad.
Maybe after dance class tonight I can hang out in a coffee shop…or, abar. Somewhere casual, where I could strike up a conversation—I’m surprisingly adept at small talk. I don’t want a nightclub vibe or anything too precious or too divey. Definitely not somewhere where my parents’ friends might see me.
Hmmm.
Thestudio is close to Pike Place Market. There’s bound to be somewhere nearby to stop by after class is over. I Google that shit and, bingo, there’s an Irish pub called Kells a couple of blocks away. I launch their website and it’s perfect. Casual. Low-key. Nondescript. Tonight there’s even a live band. There’s no chance anyone will know me there.
Except…I have to be twenty-one to get in.
Well, I didn’t get perfect grades for being stupid. It takes me all of thirty seconds to find a video on YouTube on how to make a fake ID.
It’s surprisingly easy. I upload my driver’s license into Photoshop. Change my birthday so I’m twenty-four, not eighteen. Then, it occurs to me…I should also use a fake name. On the off-chance I get caught, I can’t risk dragging the Bright name through the mud. I decide to use my mother’s maiden name.
I type in “Ivy Davies,” save my handiwork in the cloud and locate a place where I can print and laminate the card. It’s amateur, sure, but hopefully it will pass.
Holy shit.
I’ve never dared to defy my father completely. I’ve never kept secrets—other than the fact I own a vibrator which—eww—is frankly none of his business. What’s a girl who isn’t allowed to date supposed to do?
Anyway, the excitement of doing something scandalous is intoxicating. I find myself giddy at the possibilities the next eight weeks will bring in my journey of self-discovery and adventure.
Self-discovery and adventure…
I look at myself in the mirror. As my counselor says, tune into what you want and don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it.
Tell me, Ivy. What do you really want? If you could have anything?
I’m not going to lie. I know, but never dreamed it would be possible.
I want to be touched. Loved.Adored. I don’t want friends, I want a summer fling. Someone to hold my hand and kiss. Someone to explore my sexuality with, before I hit Stanford.
Let’s be honest, I’m a horny, eighteen-year-old virgin and I will never, ever, ever get this opportunity again. The rest of my life will be dedicated to running the family business and marrying someone my dad approves of.
Starting today, I’m finding a slice of happiness.
On my terms.
And, I’m not going to feel bad about it.
two
Cillian
The Same Night
I both love anddread these dinners.
