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“Tonight?” I sit up straighter, Scarlett’s hand falling away from my knee. “Like,tonighttonight?”
“Yes. I had some clothes sent over for you two to wear. Designer stuff on loan. You know the drill.” He yawns, like he’s bored. “Red carpet starts at eight, and movie kicks off at nine. I’ll have Steffi text you the details. Hope you’re not too far from the house.”
The line goes quiet, and I realize he ended the call, cursing under my breath when I note the time on my phone screen. “We need to get going.”
“Did I hear him correctly? We’re going to a movie premiere?”
“Yeah. Love the heads-up he gave us.”
I help Scarlett stand and shake off our towels before we fold them and put them in the giant straw bag she bought at the surf shop. We trudge our way up the beach toward the parking lot where the car awaits us, our steps slowed thanks to the heavy sand, and she doesn’t pull away when I grab hold of her hand.
Like we’re an actual couple.
“He said he had clothes sent to the house for us to wear tonight,” I tell her.
“I hope he sent options.” The worried look on her face says it all. She doesn’t trust Roger’s or Simon’s decisions, and I can’t blame her.
“I’m sure he did.” I open my text messages to see the details are already there for tonight’s premiere. “But we’ll need to race back to the house. Traffic is going to be hell.”
“As long as you don’t wreck the car, we should be good. We’ll have time, right?”
“Right.” I smile at her, marveling at how just hearing her voice, seeing that smile on her pretty face, eases my soul.
Yet it feels like everyone else in my life just makes it more difficult. I’m starting to realize that I depend on this girl.
More than I probably should.
CHAPTER29
SCARLETT
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I run my hands down the front of the sleek white Louis Vuitton dress, staring at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. This is the first time I’ve ever worn something designed by them before, and the dress fits so perfectly you’d think they’d made it just for me.
The moment Tate and I returned to the house after our busy—and fun—afternoon at the beach, I jumped right into the shower and then went over my outfit options for tonight’s movie premiere, finally FaceTiming my mother to get her opinion.
Gloria Lancaster has the best style of anyone I know. I trust her taste completely, and when she audibly gasped upon seeing me in the white dress, I knew that was the one I had to wear tonight.
“The photographs of you in that dress will be everywhere tomorrow,” she gushed like she always does. “You’re stunning, Scarlett. Absolutelystunning.”
She also asked me how it was going, and I gave her a vague reply, which she accepted. I’m sure she thinks we’re having filthy sex in every room of this house, the two of us alone all night long together. Which is the furthest thing from the truth.
Unfortunately.
I’m curious about sex—specifically sex with Tate—but I’m also nervous. And while I’m not 100 percent ready to do the actual deed yet, I am definitely interested in doing some... things.
Hookup-type things, like the ones he described when he was questioning me that night at the restaurant. Before everything took a drastic and somber turn.
I didn’t tell my mother about that night, and she’s never brought it up either, so I assume she didn’t see the video of the woman chasing after us through the restaurant, saying horrible stuff. The video didn’t go viral like I’m sure that woman wanted. In the end, she’s the one who looked terrible, not us.
I take a step closer to the full-length mirror, angling my face first left, then right, checking out my makeup. I didn’t do too bad of a job. Even got my vaguely winged black eyeliner on perfectly the first time around, which is pretty amazing. I grab a lip gloss from the little desk in my bedroom and uncap it before carefully applying the shiny pink shade to my lips, filling them in completely. Rubbing them together, I take a step back and examine myself in the mirror from head to toe.
My wavy hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. The dress fits to perfection, with little cutouts at the waist.
Well, more like big cutouts. And the top of the dress fits so tightly I decided to forgo a bra completely, but the fabric isn’t thick enough to completely hide my nipples.
I can see them.
Oops.
