I open my phone again.
Me: Will my parents be able to check in?
The response is immediate this time.
Holland: Blair, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me. Everything will be handled.
Trust me.
I exhale slowly.
Of course my parents wouldn’t be cut off. That wouldn’t make sense. This is prestigious. This is sophistication and royalty and wealth. It isn’t some…disappearance.
It’s a selection. Achoosing. That’s how we’ve always referred to it.
My parents trust these people. It’s the inner circle they’ve been a part of my whole life. And it’s just a couple of freaking days. It’s not as if I’m being shipped off to Siberia, never to be heard from again.
My fingers hover over the screen. I almost send my mom a text message, asking her if she feels like it’s okay, but I don’t.
I’m an adult woman, for goodness’ sake. This is my life. This is my future. I’ve totally got this.
I return to my suitcase and add another dress. Then heels. Then lingerie I bought months ago and pretended I wasn’t buying for whatever vampire legend I ended up with.
Damien is a legend; Holland’s made that clear.
And a few days is a good freaking thing. It’s giving “he’s serious about me” vibes.
I set my phone facedown on my nightstand, and I sit on the edge of my bed and try to summon the champagne feeling from this morning.
The floating. The certainty. It’s there.Mostly.
On a whim, I grab my vampire doll from his spot on my shelf and tuck it into the side of my suitcase underneath some of my clothes. I know it’s a little childish to bring a doll to a dalliance with a vampire, but he’s always brought me comfort—and if I hide him well enough, no one has to know.
A soft knock taps against my door before it creaks open.
Bonnie slips inside without waiting for permission, wearing one of my oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks.
I almost startle, but with a wildly beating heart and every molecule of willpower, I stop myself. It'll only lead to questions I don’t want to answer about my green-and-violet-eyed stowaway.
She leans against the doorframe and folds her arms. “So,” she says.
“So…?” I ask.
“You’re really going tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes. “Bonnie. Not this again.” Ever since she heard about my trip tomorrow, she’s been telling me not to go.
“No, I mean it.” She pushes off the door and wanders farther into the room. “You’re flying to New York to spend the day with some mysterious man named Damien, and everyone’s acting like it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened.”
“Well…it kind of is.”
She walks over to my bed and looks inside my suitcase. “Doesn’t this feel weird to you?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“It feels exciting, Bon.”
