“So hot,” Jem deadpanned. He’d barely seen her all week since, like him, she had been held hostage by report cards.
“Ugh,” she complained, nudging his arm. “Come on, I’ve hardly seen you all week. My brain is deep-fried mush. Give me something.”
He desperately wanted to. He needed someone to understand how it felt to hear River say, in a voice choked with emotion,I’m so fucking glad you teach kindergarten. So many people didn’t value early childhood education.
But he definitely couldn’t do that without Tori cottoning on that Jem was halfway in love with him already, so. “It’s a filmpremiere thing? Not a big fancy one. Some indie film. I don’t remember the name.”
He wasn’t sure River had eventoldhim the name.
Which mattered not at all to Tori. “Oooh.” She leaned forward. “Do you have an outfit picked out?” Then she frowned. “Wait, do you even have anything fancy enough to wear to a film premiere?” She pronouncedfilm premierewith a snobby accent, probably just to be annoying.
Okay, well, this part he’d have to tell her. She’d get a kick out of it. “Oh, yeah. River took me shopping.”
Sure enough, her eyes went round. “Oh my God! Jem!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You get those sugar baby perks.”
“Shut up.”
“No, but seriously, where’d he take you?”
Jem slouched a little. “Melrose.”
Tori shrieked. “Oh my God.”
It was a sign of how used they all were to loud outbursts that no one even looked over. Fortunately Tori lowered her voice anyway. “Oh my God,” she repeated. She might not have a lick of fashion sense, but she knew her brands. “Which store?”
Jem looked down at the tabletop. “Well I mean… we went to a lot of them?” River had tried to get him to agree to a burgundy jacket from Alexander McQueen. Jem wouldn’t even try it on. “There’s fashion for people who are famous and fashion for people who aren’t,” he’d said staunchly. “That one’s the first.”
But really he just thought the jacket was ugly and didn’t want to say so in front of the salespeople.
“Uh-huh, and then he bought you an outfit from…?”
Jem sighed. There was no avoiding it. “John Varvatos,” he mumbled.
“Jem!”
Jem was in love with the outfit too, and already lamenting the fact that he’d have nowhere to wear it when this gig was done. “It’s this dark green suede jacket, honestly so soft, fits like a glove.” So maybe Jem had put it on when he got home Sunday night and pretended the jacket was River hugging him. No one had to know that.
The jacket alone probably cost more than Jem’s take-home pay for a month.
“And then, like, the shirt is silk”—Tori stifled a squeal—“kind of like, peachy-beige, with an ombre effect.” And buttons that stopped halfway up Jem’s chest, which Tori likewise did not need to know. Doubtless she’d see pictures soon enough after the event.
“Jeans or pants?”
“Jeans. Black.” Dark-wash and as fitted as they came. Jem almost needed the jaws of life to get out of them. When he asked about getting the next size up, both the sales associate and River had said no. Emphatically.
With an approving nod, she went on, “And shoes?”
“Obviously shoes,” he agreed. “Burgundy suede sneakers. To go with the jacket.” It sounded weird, but he looked amazing. But most importantly, he looked like the guy River Wild was fucking.
Tori whistled under her breath. “Maybe I should get a sugar daddy.”
“You already have a sugar mama,” he pointed out. Ivy wasn’t exactly making chump change. “Soon to be a literal mama. Stay in your lane.”
“Yeah,” Tori said dreamily, with a little sigh, and that ended her interrogation about Jem’s weekend.
After a full week of report card stress, Jem slept like the dead. On Saturday he dragged himself out of bed just beforenoon, and even then it was mostly because his stomach wouldn’t let him sleep any longer. He halfheartedly scrambled some eggs while he waited for the first two cups of coffee to kick in, which didn’t happen until he was in the shower.
Then he woke up and got around to panicking.
