My pulse is pounding as the manager shakes my hand, and I can’t even hear what he’s telling me.
“Lewis Conley.” He said, “Lewis Conley.”
When he hands me the mic, I point to my friends and say the first thing that pops into my head.
“Amy, I love you—and we’re going to Miami, baby!”
I watch as her head falls to her hands, and I smile.
We haven’t discussed what happens after Sycamore Heights—I didn’t want to think too far ahead, in case I ended up disappointed.But now there’s nothing standing in my way, and I need her riding shotgun.
The camera guy pans in on her, and when she lights up the giant screen to my right, I laugh. She’s being broadcast around the world with two middle fingers waving in the air, and the best part is she doesn’t care.That’s my girl!
I weave my way back through the crowd, back to the Campus Drivers and our girlfriends, basking in the glow, feeling like a million bucks.
“That’s gotta be worth a kiss, surely?” I sling an arm around Firebird’s neck.
“Miami, huh?”
“Miami.” I nod, savoring every sweet syllable.
“MIAMI!” I CAN’T STOP SMILING.“Miami, My-Amy. This is a sign, Amy—I’m telling you.”
“Well, that’s got me convinced.”
She slinks out of bed, and I pat the space beside me.
“You get back here!”
She ignores me.
“I liked it better when you were stuck in that cast.” I frown.
“Glad you enjoyed it while it lasted, Conley.”
The splint has gone. The Pontiac is back. And it looks just as good as its pre-crash days, if I say so myself. Life is back on track, except this time, it’s shinier than ever—a new and improved version where I get to watch her topless and shimmying into her panties every morning. Okay, so I got to do that anyway, back before we were a thing—but now that I’m in my pro-girlfriend phase, the sight is all the sweeter.
IT’S BEEN A WEEK SINCEthe draft, and I’ve been working on Amy hard, plying her with all the reasons why Florida makes total sense. I bring it up all the time, making sure I keep my tone light andbreezy, but the truth is I’m scared of having a conversation about it—especially as she doesn’t seem to be biting.
Last night, I waited until she fell asleep before hitting the research, desperately trying to come up with something halfway convincing. I’m learning that when you’re dealing with a Hitman, you need to put the work in. And I’ve got three Hitmans to tackle—I need to win Raven and Charlotte over, too. Make that four—Raven gave birth to a baby girl, who has definitely got Hitman vibes already. Thank God I can count on Joey.
“Can you put a top on? I need to focus here.”
She looks at me with interest. “Focus on what?”
“On what I plan on telling you once I manage to drag my eyes away from your boobs.”
She tugs on a tank—no bra.Nice.
I pout at her. “I can see through that, you know…”
“Excuses, excuses, Conley.”
She climbs onto the bed, pulling her knees into her chest, and I roll over onto my side, reaching for the folder I made up yesterday.
I take a deep breath in.
And then I take a step into the void.
