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“You know what you should do?”
“What?”
“You should have your fling with Atlas. Enjoy your freedom as a single woman and have lots of sex.” She downs her drink. “I have a fantastic idea. Let’s go.”
We climb into her Mercedes and drive to one of the Nakedoutlet stores.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, eyeing the lit store. Women stroll in and out of the glass building.
“You’re going to pick out lingerie and wear it to Atlas’s penthouse.”
I cock my eyebrow. “Right now?”
“Right now,” she concurs.
I’m so out of my element. I’ve never done anything spontaneous in my life, and I like to be reserved and stay in my element. Leave it up to my best friend to convince me to sleep with my boss. This is such a bad idea, and I should turn down his offer, but I don’t want to. Ever since the car accident, I have crippled myself to live like a hermit, letting my scar rule my life and letting my insecurities take over. I don’t want to have a relationship with him, but I can enjoy his body. But I have so much on the line, and I can’t let the fling interfere with my career. It feels wrong. But isn’t this why I moved to New York City? To start over and leave my old life behind, leave the car accident behind? This could be a time where I look back on and think about the incredible fling I had.
We step out of the car and head inside. The sales associate hands us a bag and Poppy piles different colored lingerie into it. I glance at a price tag—five hundred for a bra and panties set.
“When was the last time you treated yourself?” Poppy asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
She strokes my back. “You deserve it.”
Once I pay for the items, Poppy pushes me toward the dressing room.
“Change into your favorite lingerie.”
When I close the door, I put on a bra and panties set made of lace with flower designs. It’s from their new summer catalog this year. The lingerie hugs my body like a glove, and I can see my nipples peeking through the slits in the bra. I slide my tank top and denim shorts back on. Once I step out of the dressing room, we climb into her car.
She grabs her makeup kit from her purse and spreads red lipstick over my lips, then she uses her eyeliner and eyeshadow to give me a smoky eye look.
“He’s going to come in his pants when he sees you,” she squeals.
Once she’s finished, she hands me a mirror, and I stare at myself. I haven’t worn a full face of make up since forever. The color on my eyelids pop, complementing my hazel eyes, and even though the foundation doesn’t cover my scar, I still look pretty.
Worry eats at me. “Don’t you think I should call him before I show up at his penthouse?”
“Um, no. Men love surprises. Tell me where to go.”
“Take me to the nearest liquor store so I can buy a bottle of vodka.”
“Do you need liquor courage?”
“Yes.”
“I got you covered.”
We drive off into traffic and it’s at least twenty minutes before we find a liquor store. She goes inside and comes back out with a bottle of tequila. I unscrew the lid and put the glass to my lips, swallowing a large gulp. It burns my throat, causing me to cough so loud Poppy has to pat me on the back. I take another few sips and she snatches the bottle from me, putting the lid back on before setting it in the back seat.
“Slow down, you don’t want to go there sloppy drunk.”
I give her the directions to his place and nervousness bubbles inside of my chest. My mind drifts off to last night, and our conversation plays in the back of my mind. I never realized it before, but Atlas has a kind heart and it’s one of the traits I like about him. He went out of his way to buy those boots for me, and he wants to be a gentleman, wants to do the right thing by not using me for sex. He wants to spend time with me. It has to count for something. Maybe I judged him too harshly.
Poppy pulls up to the curb on Atlas’s street.
“Good luck. Let me know what happens.”
