“My face and style don’t belong in a five-star hotel, and I fear I’ll be pulling attention to myself.”
Cassie sighs and shakes her head, fully stepping out from the closet to give me her undivided attention.
“Alright, for starters—”
I groan and flop back onto the bed, knowing she’s about to give me the scientific reason why I’m overthinking this.
“You look great. But nobody is going to be focusing on you because there’s going to be famous athletes running around.”
That should sting, but she’s right. I'm nobody outside of my costume, and that’s what I always wanted: to keep my professional life separate from my personal life.
“Second, you’ve earned your trip to the Olympics and should treat yourself while you’re there.” Now, she’s pointing a finger at me like I better be listening to what she’s saying. “You. Are. Singing. At. The. Olympics.”
I can’t help but grin at my best friend while she compliments my achievements. She really is helping.
“And last, you have the funds to stay at a five-star hotel in Milan. So, fuck it. Stay at a five-star hotel in Milan and bang a super-hot athlete that can throw you around like the horny little rag doll you are.”
When I open my mouth to say something, she makes a zipping motion over her lips with her fingers and walks back into my closet to put an end to my insufferable questioning.
I take another sip of the wine and focus on my best friend’s fashion choices.
She’s selected a variety of sundresses, dinner dresses, and a few pants-and-shirt combos. It all feels overwhelming, and I roll onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. I’d wear leggings and an oversized hoodie to the Olympics if they’d let me.
Cassie spends an hour changing in and out of my clothes, trying to sell me on things I had already planned on taking.
Honestly, she chose a lot of what I had in mind anyway, which is a little unsettling, but I guess that’s why we’ve been best friends since we could form proper sentences.
Finally, we pass out. Cassie in my clothes. A bottle of wine in my arms.
And it’s the best sleep I’ve had in months.
At seven o’clock the next morning, Cassie is cursing me as we drive to the airport. I was going to ride with Theo since we’re on the same flight and live in the same house, but his recent actions had me choosing a different route.
“I hate you,” Cassie groans for the third time since my alarm went off.
“And I love you too,” I reply for the third time since my alarm went off.
We stop at a small cafe inside the airport, and I buy her a coffee for wallowing with me and being my chaperone. She pats my shoulder as she takes a large pull from the piping hot liquid.
I swear she has a cast-iron throat.
“Much better,” she groans, her eyes closed as she savors the flavor of shitty airport coffee.
I squeeze her arm and tell her to head home. I feel like I’m holding her hostage on a day she wasn’t even supposed to be awake at this hour. Her hospital shifts are garbage, so she tries to sleep on a normal person’s schedule whenever she can.
“Are you sure?” She looks genuinely concerned that I’ll get lost or something.
Pulling her in for a hug, I smile and let myself enjoy this moment.
“I’m sure. How can I not be okay? I’m hugging my best friend before I board a plane to Italy.”
She breaks the hug and stares at me for a moment, her eyes tearing up as the words hit her. “You really are amazing, Vi. I hope you know that.”
“That’s up for debate,” I say, insinuating that I’m freshly single and may have nowhere to live when I return to New York. I’m going to have to sell my house and let my agent know that Theo and I are not in good standing, so she can have her people monitor social media.
Nausea rolls in my belly, but I keep that feeling tucked in as best I can. Cassie and I are having a moment here, and I won’t let anything ruin that.
“I’ll text you as soon as I land,” I whisper into her hair. “I love you so much.”
