Allegra rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe one day she’d confess the whole sordid saga to Clara—how she’d tried to lure Nate upstairs with the subtlety of a concussed peacock. How she’d channeled her wounded pride into a hookup with a sweaty Frenchman.
Today was not that day.
Allegra:We’re just seeing each other.
Clara:That’s literally what dating is.
Allegra:It’s not dating. It’s situational companionship.
Clara:OMG. OMG. OMG.
Allegra:It’s temporary!!!
Clara:Everything is temporary. That’s how time works.
Allegra huffed. Clara was insufferable when she got logical.
Clara:So why not ‘just see’ him tonight?
Allegra glanced at the clock. Ten in the evening. Her entire body felt like it had been wrung out and hung up to dry.
Allegra:No sleep = human-shaped puddle.
Clara:Solid argument.
Allegra decided to change the subject.
Allegra:Had a near-miss with a paparazzo today. That guy with the combover like a dead rat.
Clara:Dieter?
Allegra:Bingo.
Clara:How’d you dodge that one?
Allegra pressed a finger to her lips, her mind flashing back to the moment her mouth had collided with Nate’s—first as an emergency maneuver, then as something else entirely. The way her stomach had swooped, her pulse had spiked, and her brain had dissolved into dizzy static. She wiggled, heat blooming between her legs. And typed.
Allegra:Managed to hide.
Clara:You’re telling me Dieter Dead Rat Combover was within lunging distance and that’s the whole story?
Allegra:That is the official version, yes.
Clara:You’re bluffing.
Allegra:I’m sleeping.
Clara:Sure you are.
A final message popped up before the typing bubble disappeared.
Clara:Give your not-boyfriend my regards.
She glared at the screen for a full five seconds before tossing the phone onto the pillow beside her.
Chapter Sixteen
Allegra squinted against the mist spraying off theJet d’Eau, the spray soaking the front of her T-shirt and the hem of her skirt. She wriggled a finger across the wet fabric. Definitely should have picked something less white.
