Page 33 of Off the Ice

And for reasons I didn’t fully understand, it did.

Seventeen

Ava

Iwashalfwaythroughan afternoon coffee, the next day, when my phone buzzed with another text from Logan.

Logan

Fancy party Friday night. Black tie. You’re coming.

Ava

I still have the dress from the last gala. Works for me.

No. New dress. Check your inbox.

I groaned, already knowing what I’d find before I opened my email. Sure enough, there was a message from a high-end boutique downtown with the subject line“Exclusive Styling Appointment for Ava Carlisle”and Logan CC’d for good measure.

Rolling my eyes, I shot him back a reply.

The last one was perfect. I don’t need a new dress.

You’re a Hellblade WAG, baby. Gotta keep up appearances.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or scream. That stupid nickname, why did it make my insides fucking melt. A Hellblade WAG? I don't remember this part of the arrangement, or was Logan just enjoying his newfound power to play stylist?

Ava

Fake girlfriend, remember? Fake being the key word here.

Which is why you can fake going along with this.

Duh.

Humor me.

My irritation softened slightly as I imagined him typing that last part, his signature smirk no doubt plastered across his face. It was infuriating, but I couldn’t deny he had a point. The more convincing we looked, the less scrutiny we’d face. Still, that didn’t mean I was thrilled about indulging his “high-earning WAG” fantasy. But he was still getting left on read.

When I showed up at the boutique later that day, the staff greeted me like royalty. They fussed over my measurements, brought out racks of gowns, and talked me into trying on things I never would’ve considered. One shimmering gold number caught my eye, its understated elegance setting it apart from the others. I had just decided on it when my phone buzzed again.

Logan

No gold. Red or black.

I was thinking blaze orange!

….

I groaned audibly, startling the saleswoman arranging accessories nearby. “Sorry,” I muttered, "Just heard from the king, red or black dresses only."

In the end, I settled on a black gown with a high slit and intricate beading along the bodice.

It was stunning, I had to admit.

***

The gala, hosted at the Art Institute of Chicago, beautifully merged the city’s culture and commitment to giving back. From the outside, the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a glimpse of the glowing lantern-lit atrium, where marble floors gleamed beneath vaulted ceilings. Inside, sculptures stood illuminated like silent guardians, adding a timeless elegance to the evening. The warm light spilled out into the night. Organized by the Greater Chicago Food Depository, the event was more than just a fundraiser. The GCFD, Chicago’s largest food bank, was a vital resource in the fight against hunger, providing meals, nutrition education, and job training to address the root causes of food insecurity. Tonight’s gala wasn’t just about raising money—it was about rallying the city’s most influential people to make a real difference.

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