Clarke
Two weeks down, two to go.
Nessa
And how goes the bucket list?
June
Fuck-it list. There. Fixed it for you.
Clarke
A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.
June
Ladies are boring. Sluts have more fun.
#SluttySpring
Nessa
#SpringintoSin
Clarke
Heavens.
June
Good one.
You still haven't answered, Clarkey Clark.
A knock at the door was my saving grace. I wasn't sure how much I wanted to say about my and Soren's exploits. Not yet, at least.
I tossed my phone on the bed, sidestepping my discarded sneakers on the way to the door. When it swung open, I almost melted on the spot. Soren Sinclair looked damn good leaning against my doorframe, blazer slung over one shoulder.
It was exactly the sort of thing that I would pick out for him. Modern, relaxed but still well-fitted to his broad shoulders. The charcoal gray color matched his eyes, and when he smiled, it was, dare I say, a little bit magical.
“Hi, blondie.”
“Hi," I somehow mustered. Before Soren, I had prided myself on my public speaking abilities. I'd entertained some of the nation's oldest families, dazzled foreign dignitaries with my knowledge of French cuisine, and yet, with Soren Sinclair, I stumbled over basic greetings.
"You going to invite me in?"
“You’re wearing a suit.”
He looked down at himself, amused.
“I am.”
“I’ve never seen you in a suit before.”
“And?”
And it was a sight to behold. The man could model for Brooks Brothers.
