Page 2 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

“How much is it? I can’t look!” I thrust the tag toward her and close my eyes.

She goes quiet. Too quiet. I expect her to shout about how affordable it is, but there’s nothing. I peek and find her standing at the cash register.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, shooting an awkward smile at the saleswoman, who raises an eyebrow.

“Buying you the dress,” Annie says, nudging me with her elbow to stay quiet.

“I can see that, but how much is it?”

“It’s on me,” she says with a wide smile, ignoring my protests.

Annie hands me the bag and wraps her arm around me.

“I can’t accept this,” I say, guilt rising in my chest. Annie and I earn about the same, and I know how hard it is to balance passion with practicality.

“Too late—it’s yours now. Buy us dinner, and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.” I smile, grateful beyond words.

I know buying dinner won’t make us even, but it’s the least I can do. Annie’s gesture has pushed our friendship into a deeper, more meaningful place.

Later, I’m rushing to get ready, fumbling to find my lipstick. Tossing pillows off the bed, I finally spot it hiding underneath.

“There you are.” I grab it, dab it on my lips, and glance at the clock.

Shit.

Grabbing my presentation, I race out the door. On the road, the lack of traffic is a blessing, giving me time to clear my head and ease my nerves.

When I arrive, the event is already in full swing. Rubin McNeal is on stage.

Rubin is a legend—one of the most renowned sports managers of his time, with an uncanny ability to spot talent. If he’s backing my project, it means he sees potential. That thought steadies me as I slip in quietly and grab a drink, listening to Rubin share his story.

Despite his success, he’s humble, always crediting his team for their dedication. It’s no wonder the crowd loves him.

As I move closer for a better view, someone steps on my foot.

“A bit clumsy, huh?” I say, bending to inspect my shoe.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” a sharp voice retorts.

I look up, ready to fire back, when I freeze.

Standing in front of me is none other than Sebastian Kane.

“Why, if it isn’t Sebastian Kane himself,” I say, folding my tissue in my hand.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, squinting at me.

“Just watch where you’re stepping next time,” I snap.

His laugh catches me off guard. “Now I remember. You’re Anna.”

“It’s Ava,” I snap, shoving the dusty tissue into his hand. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do with that.” The corner of my lips curves into a forced smile.

I try to step away, but the room is packed, leaving me no escape.

“That would’ve been a killer comeback,” Sebastian chuckles, “if only you’d nailed the dramatic exit.”

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