Page 50 of Catch You

I look down at his message again.

Brit Boy: Be ready for seven. I’ll pick you up.

That’s it. No other instruction, no hint as to what we could be doing. Nothing.

“So …” Brooke says, staring into my closet.

“I don’t know. I’m sure whatever we choose will be wrong.”

“Choosing something that will make you look like sex on legs could never be wrong.”

“This is a date, not a hook-up.”

“They can be the same thing. You want to be prepared for the best outcome, always.”

“Just grab me a denim skirt and top.”

“Har—”

“No,” I say, holding my hand up to halt her. “You can do the hair and makeup. I choose the clothes.”

“Fine, fine,” she concedes, pulling my favorite skirt from the closet, closely followed by a couple of tanks.

“Black and this,” I say, grabbing a light floral cardigan.

“Okay, yeah. That’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

I allow her to curl my hair, and to my delight, she doesn’t go too heavy-handed with the makeup for once.

I sip away at an overly strong rum and Coke Brooke made to help settle my nerves, but when my head starts to swim before he’s even here, I regret it.

I want to make decisions I won’t regret in the morning.

The beeping of a horn has us both jumping up. Brooke runs to the window like someone set her ass on fire.

“Oh my God,” she gasps.

I take a step toward her, but she pulls the curtains closed so I can’t see anything.

“No, go and meet him and find out for yourself.”

“But—”

“Nope. No buts. Just go and enjoy yourself.”

I blow out a breath in the hope it’ll calm my racing heart. It does nothing.

“Okay. I’ve got this.”

I’m almost at the stairs when I hear her again.

“Have you got condoms?”

I don’t answer, although my cheeks do heat as I recall sliding a box into my purse earlier today. Like the man said himself: always be prepared.

My legs are like jelly as I make my way to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest.

---