Page 24 of Taming Georgia

London meets the guy halfway, and we watch as the two of them chat. London looks surprisingly content as she jokes with the guy.

“I don’t trust her,” Paige says. “Why is she so happy?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird,” I agree.

London takes the guy’s phone and starts typing away on the screen. As she gives it back to him, she says something that makes his eyes bulge. He nods, gives her a sly smile, and walks off.

She comes prancing back to our table.

“Did you give him your number?” I ask, confused.

“I gave himanumber.” She smirks.

“What did you do?” Paige narrows her eyes.

“Same thing I did with all the guys who asked me for my number tonight. Or should I say, asked my boobs for their number. Why is it so hard for a guy to look you in the eyes? Seriously.” London takes a sip of her drink.

“You’d better spill the details,” Paige says.

London shrugs. “I gave them your number, Paigey Poo. I told this last one that there’s bonus points in it for him if he sends me a picture of what’s under his pants.”

“You did not!” Paige shrieks.

“I did!” London is laughing so hard that tears are falling from her eyes.

“O-M-G.” I laugh. “Dick pics are so gross!”

“Ew! Ew! Ew!” Paige cries. “I do not deserve that!” She laughs. “There is nothing wrong with showing some cleavage. Hey, at least I didn’t make you wear that.” She nods toward the dance floor.

We turn to see a girl dancing on the stage. Her outfit—and I use that term lightly because it’s more like a piece of fabric—doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“I honestly don’t know how that’s not against dress code. You can almost see everything,” I say.

“Her nipples are covered. I think that’s all this place cares about. Plus, I don’t think they have a dress code,” Paige says.

“Well, society does—an implied one at least.” I give an exaggerated shudder.

“I bet she would appreciate some dick pics. You should share them when they come, Paige,” London jokes.

“You know, there will be retribution if I open a message containing a penis. I’m just letting you know.” She gives London a look that says she’s serious.

London holds up her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m a married woman. I had to give these guys something.”

“I have to go pee,” I whine.

“Then, go to the restroom,” my sister tells me.

“That requires putting on my shoes,” I say with a fake cry. “I can’t do it. They hurt so bad.” I nod toward my feet.

London nods in understanding. “Suck it up, buttercup. You definitely don’t want to be walking through the bathroom without shoes.”

“Definitely not,” I agree.

I stand, and holding one hand against the table for leverage, I lift my foot to put my heel on. I opt to leave it unfastened to give my foot more room to breathe. But when I complete the same motion for the other foot, the unsecured heel wobbles beneath my foot, and I feel myself falling toward the floor.

I close my eyes and brace for impact, but the impact doesn’t come. Two strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight chest.

I hope my knight in shining armor is cute because he feels and smells heavenly. My dream is crushed the second he speaks.

---