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"And the guy you love sent you a declaration. This is no time to wait!" She grabs her backpack and nearly tears it apart in search of her keys and wallet. "You okay wearing that?"
I look at my finals outfit. It's jeans and a t-shirt, not the thing of romantic declarations. I should throw on a princess dress and heels, something that would look as dramatic as this feels.
"Fuck it, wear that or I'm dressing you. You have five seconds to decide," she says.
"Will it be slutty?"
"Three seconds."
"Okay, dress me. No. It doesn't matter. Let's just go."
"Good thinking." She lunges for her phone, wraps her hand around my wrist, and nearly drags me outside. "I wish you could drive stick. I'm so nervous for you."
My heart thuds against my chest. My head is still swimming. Miles loves me. He trusts me. He respects me. This is everything I want.
"I'm so nervous for me," I say.
She fumbles with the lock. Checks the door twice. Then she drags me to her car.
Kara drives like a maniac. She breezes through yellow lights on her way to the freeway. She's at seventy, eighty, almost ninety.
"I'd rather get there alive," I say.
&
nbsp; She slows down, but her fingers are tight around the wheel. She's almost more nervous than I am, but I don't think that's technically possible.
My stomach is tied up in knots. My heart is thumping against my chest like it's the freaking Jaws theme. And my breath—it's physically impossible, but I'm pretty sure I haven't taken a breath since I heard the song.
Kara pulls off the freeway. The Sinful mansion is way up in the Hollywood Hills. It's still another ten minutes to their place. Breathing would go a long way towards arriving alive.
I force myself to inhale, but it only heightens the tingling sensation in my body. The song might not mean he wants me. It might be an apology or an admission that ends in sorry, but it's over.
I close my eyes and force myself to exhale. Kara is here. Whatever happens, I'll survive.
But I'd much rather survive with Miles.
We turn onto one of the local streets, and we drive up, up, up the winding roads into the hills. The lights are on in the house, and Miles's car is in the driveway. His bike is there, too.
He must be here.
Kara parks and jumps out of the car. She's back to bouncing around, ready to knock down anything in her way. She's on my side this time. Thank God. I need the ally.
I climb out of the car. My feet feel wobbly. I'm in sneakers, but I can barely stand. Jelly. My legs are jelly. I press my palm against the car to stay upright.
What if he asks me to get lost? What if I misinterpreted everything?
"Come on." Kara grabs my hand and pulls me up the stone steps.
Somehow, I don't slip. I make it all the way to the oversized front door. Knock. I need to knock. I curl my fingers into a fist and tap it against the door. It barely makes a sound.
"I think I'm going to faint," I whisper.
Kara shakes her head. "You've got this." She presses the doorbell.
Ding. Dong. It really does make that sound, like the game we played when we were kids where we'd press the neighbor's doorbell, run away, and watch to see if they came out.
Ding Dong Ditch. And it sounds like a fantastic idea. Run away, never face Miles, never get the crushing news that he doesn't love me.
