Page 13 of Curvy Girl for the New Year

Keep reading for an excerpt from Unmasking the Billionaire.

Eve

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” I practically have to yell over the music to be heard by Jenny, my best friend since childhood.

Jenny just smiles her dazzling, millionaire-dollar, rich girl smile at me from behind her sparkling, Swarovski-crystal mask.

We’re at some sort of masquerade ball for New York’s elite. It’s the Halloween party of the season and surprisingly not as stuffy as I’d expected it to be.

Honestly, it’s kind of cool with the dim lighting, high-end decorations, elaborate costumes, and all the masked faces on parade, but still.

This isn’t my element.

“Oh, come on, Eve! This is fun! You need to lighten up and live a little for once!”

That’s easy for her to say. She’s a trust fund baby without a care in the world. Her mommy and daddy pay for everything, from her expensive haircut to the designer shoes on her feet. She doesn’t have to worry about anything.

Not that I begrudge my bestie anything. I’m glad she hasn’t had the same struggles in life I’ve had. It’s how she’s able to have that beautiful, happy glow about her.

She doesn’t know the worry that I do of how she’s going to pay next month’s rent or how she’s going to juggle the electric bill so that the power doesn’t get cut off.

And while she’s offered to pay my bills before or let me move in with her, I have way too much pride to accept her offers.

I’ve been making it on my own since I turned eighteen and aged out of the group home, and I’m not about to start accepting charity now that I’m twenty.

“Your birthday only comes around once a year!” she reminds me, flinging an arm around my shoulder familiarly. “It’s time to turn up and party!” She pronounces “party” like “par-tay,” and I can’t help the smile that ghosts across my lips at her giddiness.

Jenny is a blonde bombshell. Model thin, tan, and tall, she’s all bubbly and light whereas I almost look like a goth chick with my midnight black hair, pale complexion, and short stature. And although Jenny’s slender, she has a little bit of curves in all the right places.

Me? Nothing. I’m so thin my breasts and ass are laughable at best, and it’s not because I don’t eat because trust me. I’ve gone hungry before, and you’ll never see me turn down a meal or feign a weak appetite. I can put it away like a football player, and I’m not even the least bit ashamed of it. At barely five foot, though, I’m teeny tiny and still look like a pre-teen—no matter how much I eat.

My best friend and I are total opposites. She’s outgoing whereas I’m quieter. I’m not exactly shy, but I don’t have a desire to be the life of the party either. She’s like the light, and I’m the dark. Seriously, I was born on All Hallow’s Eve, and she was born on Jesus’ birthday, a perfect little Christmas baby.

“Come on,” Jenny grabs my hand and starts dragging me along with her, “let’s go find some hot guys.”

I roll my eyes. That’s another difference between us. Jenny is boy crazy, and I couldn’t care less about the opposite sex. I’m nota lesbian or anything, but I just don’t have any experience with men.

Survival has kept me from getting into any serious relationships. The most I’ve ever done is let a few boyfriends in high school kiss me, and I wasn’t impressed with those slobbery attempts, so I’ve never been tempted to even try anything more.

So, yeah, I’m a twenty-year-old virgin. Pathetic, right?

Jenny drags me by a table filled with Halloween-themed cookies, cakes, and other confections, and my mouth begins to water.

I pull back on her hand to try to stay her. “Let’s get some refreshments instead!” I yell to her over the pumping music.

She looks over her shoulder at me and rolls her eyes. “I swear, Eve, you’re always freaking hungry. I don’t know where you put it all.”

I smirk at the obvious envy in her tone. Jenny is the stereotypical gym bunny, counting every calorie she eats to maintain her perfect physique.

“Don’t hate,” I grin at her smugly before reaching out to grab a miniature black cupcake covered with purple frosting.

I barely have time to pop the bite-sized confection in my mouth before Jenny is yanking on my hand again, pulling me through the crowd.

“Jenny, slow down!” I hiss at her, afraid I’m going to break my neck in these five-inch heels she insisted I wear tonight to make me not look like so much of a smurf. Her words—not mine. Plus, she claims they’re just the perfect addition to the lacy black dress she dressed me up in.

I swear sometimes I think Jenny is my friend just because she wants a real-life doll to play dress up with. There’s no greater joy for her than dressing me up in fancy clothes, doing my hair and makeup, and dragging me to shit like this with her.

And I go along with it because I love my best friend and want to make her happy.

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