“Oh.” Poppy looked at the time and had a minor heart attack. “Holy shit. I amsosorry. I can’t believe I—”
“Shut up, Poppy,” she said, and it might’ve been the fondest anyone had ever sounded when telling her to be quiet. “I calledyou,remember?”
Okay, that was fair. She had. “I’ll try to keep my sexting to reasonable hours next time.”
“I don’t mind. Really,” Rosaline said. “Now, go to sleep, Poppy. And try not to mainline too much caffeine before bed.”
“Will do on the first, no promises on the second.” She tucked her pillow under her chin, smiling into the fabric. “Good night.”
Rosaline ended the call and Poppy pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She’d probably have stupid, heart-shaped imprints on her skin if heart-eyes were a real thing that existed outside of old cartoons.
She didn’t have a fear boner for Rosaline Sinclair, she had a freakingheartboner—same as a crush only stunningly hornier. Words she never in a million years thought would cross her mind, but then again, if someone had asked her even two weeks ago if she’d be having sex with Rosaline Sinclair, she’d have laughed herself into another dimension.
She was buttoning her pajama top, about to make a trip to the bathroom before trying to go to sleep like Rosaline had told her to, when her phone buzzed.
Rosaline (1:12 a.m.):Sweet dreams, Poppy.
Chapter Ten
Tuesday, October 16
Rosaline (11:32 a.m.):Change of plans re: the WMAs.
Poppy (11:35 a.m.):Ok?
Poppy (11:39 a.m.):???
“If you were in Los Angeles, it would make preparing for the WMAs much simpler,” Rosaline said without prelude.
Poppy cradled her phone against her shoulder. “Cash can’t fly in until the day of. Mandatory practice, remember?”
“Mandatory for him. You have no such obligation to attend, do you?”
“No, but I assumed I’d fly down with—”
“Then there’s no reason you can’t get a flight out tonight.” The muted click-clack of a keyboard made it past the phone’s background noise cancellation. “What do you think about staying atthe Beverly Wilshire? CUT isdefinitelyoverrated as far as restaurants go, but the spa has a eucalyptus steam room that will absolutely change your—”
“Slow down.” Poppy laughed. “Rosaline, be real. I can’t stay at the Beverly Wilshire.”
It was theBeverly Wilshire.The FourfreakingSeasons.A one-night stay probably cost more than Poppy made in two weeks at her old job. She could afford it now, sure, but did she honestly have any business dropping that kind of money on a hotel room she didn’treallyneed? Not to mention what a last-minute flight would cost.
“Okaaay.” Rosaline drew out the word skeptically. “Would you rather stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel?”
Poppy palmed her face. “Look, I canmaybefly down Saturday, but... what would I even do for four whole days by myself in LA?”
There was a pause. “Are you being serious right now? I can’t tell.”
Poppy frowned. “Yes? I’m being serious.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rosaline muttered, making Poppy frown harder. “Look, if you’re so worried about making the trip worth your while, I’m having dinner on Thursday with a few acquaintances fromVanity Fairwho are in town covering the awards. You are more than welcome to come with me. Plus, you said you still need to find a dress. If ever there were a rack that deserves better thanoff-the-rack, it’s yours. We’ll go shopping, you and me. There. You have plans. Happy?”
Her brain blue screened. “I—you think I have nice tits?”
“Poppy,” Rosaline chided. “Is that the only thing you took away from what I said?”
“No,” she denied. “Vanity Fairmagazine. Shopping for dressesthat probably cost more than Cash’s mortgage payment. I’ve got a spectacular rack. I heard you.”
