“Whoa, dude, back up,” she says, frowning at me.
I take several deep breaths in a row. “I fuckin’ apologize. Have you seen Annie? May’s twin?”
She shakes her head. “She texted me a while ago and said the wedding was off. She asked me to take care of closing it down. But I haven’t seen her.”
I turn on my heel and go back to the elevator, adrenaline punching through my veins.
Of course she fuckin’ took care of things for May. OF COURSE SHE DIDN’T TELL TOM ABOUT YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ ASSHOLE.
I get to the bridal suite, the scene of my worst fuckin’ nightmare, but I could give two shits about who sees me right now. I bang on the door. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone in there?HEL?—”
Izzy Flores opens the door with an equally panicked look in her eyes.
“Where’s Annie?” we both shout in tandem.
I peer behind her. The room is empty. “I don’t know,” I pant. “She’s not with me. My calls and texts aren’t going through to her.”
She gives me an inscrutable look. “I just got a text from her a minute ago that says, ‘I’m okay.’ I want to make sure she’s really okay.”
Something heavy settles behind my ribs. I’m out. I’m on the other side of the force field. “Where else have you checked?” I grit out.
“Her room and this room.”
“I checked the roof. She’s not there.”
We lock eyes, some sort of understanding passing between us. “Bar,” we say in tandem.
We move back towards the elevator. May’s fine, Izzy tells me. Well, not fine, but fine considering. She’s safe. It makes me worry about Annie even more.
“So,” she says, with an eyebrow raised. “Sex work, huh?”
I blow out a breath. Shrug.
“Where do you have your content?”
“Harlot.”
“Nice. What kind of stuff do you post?”
The tips of my ears burn up. “Uh…”
“Nico,” she says.
Her tone makes me look over.
“I’m sort of an escort. I get paid a disgusting amount of money to work for and occasionally have sex with people. I am not the person to be embarrassed in front of,” she tells me, matter-of-factly.
I blink.
What thefuck? I give Isabel Flores—fellow Mathletes champion, chess team co-president, and the third-ranked student of our high school class, right behind me and Annie—the full force of my attention.
She gives me a totally unbothered smile. Owning it.
My mouth hangs open and only briefly closes to form the word, “Wow.”
“Yep.”
“I…” Well, I guess there really is no reason to be embarrassed. “I cook,” I admit. “I cook naked, and I explain the food science behind everything I make.”
