Page 31 of Bad For A Weekend

I plaster on a fake smile, turning in a circle. “Right? This is definitely the one.”

“Bay, you look banging,” Ziggy says.

“Thank you.”

“Can you have it ready by this Friday?” Dad asks Carla.

“Absolutely. The designer will be honored you chose his gown.”

“Get up there. Let’s take some pictures,” Bette says to Ziggy, who’s still in his tux.

We pose for pictures, and I enjoy the moment, not only because this is a core memory but because I can still hear Owen’s words in the back of my mind.

You’re special. The kind of person who deserves to stand out in a crowd.

Owen

Istand off to the side as a crowd gathers in the front yard. The kids, their dates, and all the parents stand around, snapping pictures while they wait for Baylor. The house was in a buzz all damn day preparing for tonight.

I haven’t seen Baylor, only the people Corey hired to spit-shine her for prom. A white Hummer limo sits in the driveway, the driver also standing by. Thank fuck Corey didn’t expect me to drive that thing. My only role for the evening is to make sure Baylor is safe.

Irritation claws my skin, seeping from my pores, and I don’t know why. The prom is being held at Vibinia, a former cathedral in downtown L.A. I met with the owners earlier this week, and they’ve assured me no one will be admitted if they aren’t issued a ticket. Plus, I’ll have my eyes on her all night.

I guess therein lies my problem.

She’s going to prom with some douchie-looking kid who definitely doesn’t deserve to have her on his arm. He looks like an idiot with his floppy hair combed forward, dressed in a pink tux that’ll compete for attention with Baylor—a battle he’ll lose because even though I only saw her when the dress was too long and her hair was piled high in a bun, I already know he won’t reach her level.

“There she is,” Corey says, and everyone turns to see Baylor walk outside.

I’m lucky the only one close enough to hear me suck in a sharp breath is the limo driver as I take in the sexiest woman I’ve ever landed eyes on. Her hair is loosely braided and hanging over one shoulder, with ringlets framing her face. Her makeup is light, and her skin looks dewy and fresh.

Then there’s her body. Fuck. Me. The dress is like a second skin, hugging every delicious inch of her. A deep V goes nearly to her navel, and even though there’s sheer fabric holding the two sides together, I can still see the outline of her luscious tits.

Equal amounts of shame and desire course through my body. She’s barely legal and in a completely different stage of life than I am. I have no business being this drawn to her.

Leaning against the limo, I fold my arms and look everywhere but at her as pictures are taken, corsages are exchanged, and whatever other fanfare goes on before a prom. I think back to my own, but it’s a blur of stolen liquor and clumsy body parts as I fucked my date in the bathroom of our gym since the school I went to didn’t have the funds for the fucking Vibinia.

Jesus Christ. I hope this Finn asshole doesn’t think he’s getting lucky tonight. My protection may not extend to saving her from a lackluster sexual experience, but I’ll be damned if he goes anywhere near her. Surely Corey would agree, though when he gave his instructions for the night, I was told specifically not to interfere for any reason other than to keep her safe. He doesn’t want Baylor to think he doesn’t trust her, so I’m only there to keep her alive.

Fuck that.

Eventually, the kids load into the limo. I take the passenger seat and notice the divider is up so I can’t see what’s going on in the back.

“How do I lower this thing?” I ask.

“It’s customary for us to give our clients privacy,” Len, the driver, says.

“I hear what you’re saying, but this isn’t a normal evening. My job is to keep that girl in there safe, so how am I supposed to do that when I can’t see her?”

“She’s inside a limo. You think so little of her friends to harm her on the way to prom?”

“Len,” I say, deadpan, hovering my finger over a random switch. “I will press every goddamn button in here until I find it.”

He huffs before reaching up near the sunroof. The divider lowers, and the quiet we had is suddenly gone. Shouting competes with the loud music, and I shift the rearview mirror so I can peer behind us. Len grumbles, but I ignore him. It’s not like he can see behind the vehicle through the crowd of kids and dark tint anyway.

Baylor laughs at something, then lifts a flute of bubbly liquid to her pale pink and shiny lips. Is she drinking?

“Did you give them alcohol?” I ask.

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