Page 107 of Lovetown, USA
“Give him five minutes,” I cut in, saving Cam a tongue lashing.
He hangs up, throwing his phone across the room, easily hitting one of the throw pillows that’s lying in the corner.
“You gon’ finish me off in five minutes?” he says, smacking my ass. “Let’s see what you got.”
It only takes three.
After, he calls Cam back to make sure the money went through.
“Yep, just came through. Thanks, Pop.”
“Yeah, whatever. You get a job yet?”
I cut my eyes at Trey. “Guess what, Cam?”
“What’s up?”
“Your dad is taking me to the ball.”
“Oh, word? You wanted to go to that corny shit?”
“Aye!” Trey picks grabs the phone and yells directly into it. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU TALK TO HER.”
“Okay, dang!” We hear shuffling, then Cam’s back again. “Sorry. You wanted to go to that corny dance?”
“Of course. I get to be on your father’s arm.”
He snickers. “You gassin’ him. That nigga ain’t got no game.”
“Aye, send my money back,” Trey says. “Right now.”
“It was a joke!”
“Yeah, laugh yo ass on over to that Zelle app and send my shit right on back.”
“You’re breaking up. I’ma call later when I can hear—“
The line goes dead.
We look at each other and laugh, and we end up spending most of the day in Trey’s bed. Enjoying ourselves immensely.
Still, I don’t have to ponder Britt’s ultimatum. It’s an easy choice for me. I enjoy Trey. I like Trey.
But Ilovemy career.
37
Lane
I feel like Cinderella.
The moment we step out of the limousine in front of City Hall, it feels like a dream. Like—I hate to say it—a fairy tale.
Flashbulbs go off in a staccato rhythm as Trey takes my hand, guiding me onto the red carpet that stretches across the marble steps of city hall. Cameras click, voices call out, people cheer, and it feels more like Hollywood than a mid-sized town in the panhandle of Florida.
Trey’s hand rests warm and steady on the small of my back as we pose for photos. He smiles with practiced ease, that charming, confident grin that makes everyone swoon. I smile, too, though mine wavers. I’m caught between the curated beauty of the evening and the gnawing awareness of what I now know to be true about this town.
Inside, the hall’s cavernous lobby has been transformed into a ballroom draped in elegance. Gold and cream fabric cascades from the ceiling in silken waterfalls, lit by thousands of twinkling fairy lights. Crystal chandeliers glow overhead, and round tablesare dressed in blush linens, topped with towering arrangements of roses, orchids, and peonies. Ice sculptures flank the buffet tables, shaped like Cupid, of course. What else?
