Page 31 of Written in the Stars
ELLE (7:15 P.M.):about this double date
ELLE (7:15 P.M.):your sister forgot to ask what we’re doing
ELLE (7:16 P.M.):so what’s the 411?
BRENDON (7:20 P.M.):You know the Seattle Underground? Entrance is in Pioneer Square?
ELLE (7:22 P.M.):i know of it yeah
BRENDON (7:24 P.M.):There’s an escape room. I thought it’d be fun. Race against time, you know?
BRENDON (7:25 P.M.):Then drinks? Trivia and drinks? Thoughts?
ELLE (7:27 P.M.):an escape room?!?
ELLE (7:27 P.M.):ive always wanted to do one!
ELLE (7:28 P.M.):and yes to trivia and drinks
BRENDON (7:30 P.M.):Sweet!
BRENDON (7:32 P.M.):Btw! Contracts are moving along on HR’s end. You should have a final draft in your inbox early next week.
ELLE (7:33 P.M.):yesssss
ELLE (7:34 P.M.):cant wait!
ELLE (7:35 P.M.):and thats perfect timing because mercury wont be retrograde yet
ELLE (7:35 P.M.):and youre not supposed to sign contracts during retrograde
BRENDON (7:36 P.M.):See, even the universe is jizzed about us working together.
BRENDON (7:37 P.M.):FML. Jazzed. Sorry.
ELLE (7:38 P.M.):
***
“Be honest. How do I look?” Elle gave a twirl, the hem of her dress flouncing against her thighs as she spun, ending with a spirited flourish of her fingers.
On the couch, legs tucked beneath her, Margot cocked her head, expression inscrutable. “Honest, you said?”
Elle dropped her arms and sighed. “You don’t like it.”
Margot sucked her lips between her teeth. “It’s not that I don’t like it, I do. You look like a punk rock Rainbow Brite.”
Huh. Margot’s comparison wasn’t off the mark. She’d paired her favorite navy dress from ModCloth, the one with the rainbow unicorn print, with the black rainbow patent Doc Martens she’d snagged on sale at Buffalo Exchange. Shoes that would hopefully be perfect for traipsing around in Seattle’s Underground. But, without a doubt, the most critical part of her outfit wasn’t the shoes, but instead was her comfortableundies. She was ready for whatever the universe hurled her way, including but not limited to chafing calamities.
Thirty minutes after waving good-bye to Margot, who again assured Elle she looked fine, she stepped inside the heated interior of the Underground’s tour office and spotted Darcy’s red hair over by the will call window. Right on time.
“Boo.” Elle poked Darcy in the side before leaning against the ticket counter.
Darcy’s throat jerked, her eyes dipping to take Elle in from head to toe. “Wow.”
Elle’s knees went weak so she decided to work with her body’s reaction rather than against it. Dipping at the knee, she gave a mock-curtsy, tugging at one side of the hem of her dress. “I’m choosing to interpret that as a compliment, Buttercup.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Buttercup?”
