Page 122 of Revolve
“I need to do this,” I say, though I’m not sure if it’s for me or for my mom. That letter is still weighing on me, and I can almost hear her voice in my head. It’s driving me crazy, and I need it to end. I want it all to stop.
“We can grab fast food and do some karaoke,” Summer suggests.
Kian chuckles as he tucks his phone away with a more optimistic attitude. “I was going to suggest we get drunk, but Sunny’s idea is great too.”
Summer swats him with her purse, and Aiden shoots him a disapproving look. The mention of alcohol seems to have them on edge, but I know it has nothing to do with the substance and a lot to do with how I used to use it to avoid this exact thing.
“Thanks, but the sooner it’s over, the sooner I can forget about it,” I say. “And we can still drink all the champagne at the open bar.”
“Hell yeah we can,” Kian affirms with enthusiasm.
As I slide on my tux jacket, each of them gives me a reassuring pat on the back before exiting my room. The last thing on my bed is my bow tie, and I fumble with it as I attempt to fasten it around my neck and under my shirt’s collar. After two failed attempts, I stuff it in my pocket, grab the car keys, and head for the door.
My friends are still inside when I walk out the front door, busy checking on the stove and anything else left unattended as I descend the porch steps. I’m about to unlock the doors of my Range Rover, when the sight of red in the driveway catches my eye.
Sierra stands there, her black hair neatly styled in a low bun with two strands framing her face. The warmth of her complexion contrasts with the bold red of her full lips. Her matching red dress, with thin straps that show off her collarbones, hugs her body in all the right places and ends just short of her ankles. Black heels lift her a few inches, putting her almost as high as her skates usually do.
“You’re here,” I say.
“Heard you needed a date,” she replies softly.
Just then, my friends clatter down the steps. Sierra’s gaze follows them with a hint of apprehension, and although it’s subtle, I notice her slight retreat as they gather behind me.
Kian mutters “finally” under his breath before he shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“We’ll take my truck,” Aiden says, gently taking the arm Summer was using to nudge him, and ushers her to his truck.
In four slow steps, I close the distance between Sierra and me until the tips of my shoes touch hers. Her cherry scent envelopes me. “You look …” I trail off, unable to find the words.
“Easy?” Sierra jokes, her uncertainty fading a little.
A weight slips from my shoulders. “I was going to say hot.”
She raises a brow.
“And beautiful.” My eyes drag down her dress, then back to her face. “And perfect.”
Her smile makes the blush-pink apples of her cheeks rise, and Iswallow hard to keep from saying something else that may be very inappropriate for our “taking it slow” phase.
“No bow tie?” she asks.
I shrug, but she must read something on my face, because her hand dips inside my pocket. The silken ends of the black bow tie slip between her fingers as she lets her hands slide up my chest to lift the collar of my shirt. Our eyes lock, and I can hear my pulse in my ears.I miss you. Put me out of my misery. Let me be everything for you, I want to say as she slides it around my neck, evening out the ends.
“When I was twelve,” she begins, “I did a charity showcase, and my short program was to ‘Circus’ by Britney Spears. I refused to wear a clip-on bow tie, so I got pretty good at tying these things.”
“I’d pay good money to see that.”
Sierra expertly loops the tie. “Stick around and I might show you for free.”
I graze her cheek. “I intend to.”
Her emerald gaze catches mine, and I know she’s taking the words for what they are. A promise. Then, when I can’t take the heady rush of being this close to her, I lean down to taste her red lips, but the honk of an irritating car horn stops me midway.
“What is wrong with you?” I hear an irritated Summer hiss just as the truck windows roll down. Aiden pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to hold back a headache, while Kian leans into the driver’s side window, the soft country music spilling out.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we need directions. I’m starving,” Kian says.
If looks could kill, the one I’m sending him right now would do the trick, though Kian couldn’t care less. But when Sierra laughs, a real, unrestrained laugh, nothing else really matters. Her white teeth contrast with her red lips as she smiles so brightly, I can’t help but mirror her expression.
