Charlie
You’re hot as fuck, and I’m an unattached authority figure.
Jessica
That’s all it takes?
Charlie
Pretty much.
* * *
Thursday, 9:45 p.m.
Jessica
So you admit I’m hot.
Charlie
Go to bed, Brat.
Jessica
Oh my god, why won’t you tell me I’m pretty?
Charlie
Why would I need to? You tell me enough for both of us.
Chapter 11
Jessica
Charlie
This is it. Try to be cool.
I pick up my phone and roll my eyes at Charlie’s message.
The party is finally here!
My excitement is borderline embarrassing, but I’m having too much fun with Charlie to contain it.
I check out my reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of my new bedroom, painted a deep, moody green named blackened olive.
I tousle my carefully crafted waves, designed to give the impression I’ve been tossed around, and inspect raspberry-stained cheeks and lips, French-girl-inspired makeup.
The gods have blessed me with an eighty-five-degree sunny day, justifying plenty of skin. I’ve dressed accordingly, in a little white spaghetti-strapped top, held together with underwire and two measly little ties, and a minuscule jean skirt.
I hold the phone at arm’s length, snap a full-body selfie, and send it to him.
* * *
Jessica
You too.
