"Just my clothes, art stuff, and oh! My V.C. Andrews books. I was obsessed with them at the time and threw a kicking and screaming fit when my mom tried to make me leave them." I smiled, recalling how truly immature I was.
"You were spoiled rotten!"
I fell backward onto my bed. "I was. Well, okay, I still am. They are paying for the retreat. Although they don’t know it yet."
"And what else?"
"What do you mean?" I switched off the video.
"Oh, come on, Delaney. Everyone knows you're loaded."
"My parents are loaded. I have an allowance."
"An allowance!" She screeched. "Adults don't have allowances, Delaney!"
"They are funding me until I can get published,” I whined and sat up. "They understand that writing a good book and getting an agent takes time. Anyways, I'm starving. I’m gonna go eat and then get some rest before the flight tomorrow.”
"Oh yes. Moth will be there, waiting for you," Summer teased.
"He will be. He just doesn't know it yet. What time will you get there?"
"As long as the weather lets up, I should be heading to the airport tonight and get to the hotel hella early in the morning. My mom's paranoid. She thinks they're gonna cancel my flight."
"Don't say that. You're going to make it. My parents will kill me if I have to pay for that suite by myself."
"I know, I know. Good vibes only. Everything's going to be fine. All right, lock the doors, eat your food, and I'll see you tomorrow."
I turned to my suitcase with a sigh. Soon, I'd be at The Vincent, flirting with Moth, my celebrity crush, at the bar, and eventually getting his hotel key.
As I checked my bags, I realized I’d only packed for the retreat, not my layover tonight. I opened my dresser drawer and found an old nightgown. It was a slight struggle with the holes, but I tugged it on and examined myself in the mirror. I almost wondered if I should bring it along to the retreat. It was giving Nymphet vibes. Would Moth like that? I hoped so, considering the other clothes I'd packed.
I bounced down the stairs, imagining for the millionth time my first interaction with Moth, the famous author known for touring with rockstars and writing about his experiences. He was the whole reason I signed up for the writing retreat in the first place. I wasn't a published author yet, and haunted hotels weren't exactly my vibe, but giving my virginity to Moth and then writing the hottest love story ever told about it absolutely was.
I'd just popped a pepperoni pizza in the oven and was dancing to Marina’s Electric Heart album, when I was startled by the front door jiggling open.
A tall man in a large winter coat entered, freezing too upon seeing me. He removed his hood, trailing his gaze over my body slowly, until our eyes met, and the recognition hit.
"Priest?"
Rule 3 - Priest
You can work from anywhere.
Blood pounded in my ears as I stared. The house was lit, music blared, and the smell of garlic wafted from the kitchen. But it was the woman standing frozen, staring back at me, in the middle of the living room, dressed like a baby doll, who captured my attention.
"Laney?"
Her chest heaved. Her large, doe eyes were bright and surprised. She was even more beautiful now than she'd been before. It had been four years, and not a day had gone by that I didn't fucking miss her.
Laney was short, her long mousy brown hair, heart-shaped face, and full pink lips were as I remembered. But she had still changed a bit; if her curves were anything to go by. In that tiny, frilly dress, I saw everything. Her full breasts, wider hips…
Jesus fucking Christ. Laney was hot.
"Hi." She waved, turning down the music and adjusting her dress. "I didn't realize you were going to be here."
That’s because no one knows I’m here.
Had she forgotten everything? Or had our parents not told her what happened after she left?
