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Lissa gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “And he’s still in love with you?! Sophia. That’s so sweet!”
Sweet is the last thing it is. But I don’t tell her that.
“And I bet he’s super rich.”
“He is.” I bite my lip. And I used to be, too.
“Sophia! You have to go out with him!”
“I don’t, actually.” I shiver, but not from the air conditioning.
“But he’s rich! And so hot.”
“So?” I grip the counter so hard it hurts my hands.
“He’s a one-way ticket to financial security, babe. And to you getting to write full time. Is he good in bed?”
Uncannily. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I bet you’re too scared to go.”
I shoot her a glare. I know what she’s doing, and the playful spark in her eyes confirms it. She may be annoying sometimes, but Lissa loves me, and she’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. She’s just trying to ignite my competitive side.
And it’s working, dammit.
“C’mon, Soph. You haven’t been on a date in ages.”
“Fine! I’ll go.”
I GLARE AT myself in the mirror.
How many more outfits do I need to try on before I find one I’m happy with? Why am I obsessing over this?
Glancing at my phone, I let out a groan. Ten minutes until he comes to pick me up. The thought sends butterflies through my stomach, which makes me resent myself even more.
Why did I say yes to him?
No time to dwell on that now. I slip on a sleeveless pink dress that hugs me in all the right places and falls to the middle of my thighs. It’s sexy as hell. Maybe too sexy. But this way he’s seeing what he missed out on.
I bite my lip, pulling my hair up into a simple yet elegant bun. That’s all this is. You’re not dressing up for him.
There’s a knock on the door downstairs, and I freeze, but then let out a small laugh. Of course he’s early—he always was.
Grabbing my most comfortable pair of heels, I rush downstairs and swing the door open—just for my heart to stop.
He’s changed out of the suit he was wearing this morning at the shop, but he’s still wearing a button-up and pants that I have to tear my eyes away from. God, he even rolled up his sleeves.
Gulping, I step back to let him in. “I’m almost ready.”
His eyes take me in, drifting up and down my body. “You look perfect.”
As he passes me, his cologne drifts my way, and I dig my nails into my palms. It brings back so many memories, so many feelings.
“Listen, I want this to be a one-time thing,” I blurt out. “Catching up is fine, but I don’t want to date you.”
“Of course, little bird.”
I freeze as my stomach flips. Did I hear him correctly? “Don’t play games with me,” I hiss.
