The lights in Four Seasons Milan are way too flattering. That’s the first thing I notice as I stare at my reflection on the screen while my FaceTime ring tries to connect.
I’m dying to tell Cassie everything about Milan. Thankfully, there’s no way for her to drill into Skye with questions, ensuring my safety or anything, that would be overwhelming for everyone involved. I can’t imagine what she’d say if I told her about the grapes from last night.
Oh God, the grapes.
Cassie’s orders for my trip specifically include sex. It seems she manifested just enough energy to make that happen.
My legs feel like they're still shaking from being wrapped around Skye’s head not that long ago.
Twice in less than twelve hours. But who’s counting?
Skye took me to breakfast this morning at this tiny, sun-drenched cafe that’s tucked away from the tourist hustle and bustle. We shared a thick, buttery cornetto, and she drank her espresso in two swift gulps while I tried not to stare at her mouth. The whole thing felt wildly covert, like we were secret agents on a mission. Afterward, she just nodded toward the door with that quiet intensityof hers, and we went back to her hotel room. It was such an adventure, the kind that makes your pulse skip just by replaying it in your head.
And I know Cassie will demand every single detail, from the way the light caught Skye’s green eyes to the specific, heavy click of Skye’s hotel room door locking behind us.
The clock tells me it’s 9:17 a.m. here in Milan, which means it’s 3:17 a.m. in New York. Cassie is either asleep, committing minor crimes, or on her break from work, feral and caffeinated.
The sharpbrrt-brrtof the FaceTime ring is echoing in the quiet hotel room as I wait for Cassie to either answer or decline the call.
Then, the screen lights up.
Cassie appears in the same hoodie she always wears over her scrubs that says “Hot Girls Cry at Trader Joe’s”with her headset crooked over one ear. Fluorescent breakroom lighting and a vending machine is humming behind her. That tells me it’s too cold outside for her to be sitting in her car during her work break.
“Okay.” She instantly points at her screen. “Why do you look like you’re in a perfume commercial?”
“I mean, I basically am. I’m in the Four Seasons Milan, and I touched a marble surface, so now I have a personality.”
She squints. “Turn the camera.”
I pan dramatically around the room, catching the ceiling, arched windows, and the robe that hangs on my bathroom door.
Cassie gasps. “Girl, you’re basically living and breathingThe Devil Wears Prada.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I laugh. “You’re making it sound like I’m about to be bullied by a woman in sunglasses.”
She leans closer. “You look… unwell. But glowing at the same time.” Then, she gasps, and I swear every intern in her break room is now staring at the camera
“You slept with her,” she shouts.
Well, so much for keeping it on the down low.
I run a hand over my face. “Okay. So, Skye,” I begin as I watch Cassie lean into her phone while the sound of a crunching chip bag fills my ears. This bitch is basically at a dinner theater right now. “Things are… escalating.”
Cassie’s eyes widen theatrically. “Escalating how? Like, she-brushed-your-hand escalating or I-need-to-go-freeze-in-my-car-so-you-can-tell-me-things escalating?”
I stare at the ceiling and tuck my tongue into my cheek.
“Get out of my way, assholes.” Cassie’s rushed tone blasts through my phone, and I laugh hysterically as I watch the floor flashing across the screen. She’s actually running to her car. Cassie. Running.
“You trying out for the Olympics?” I ask her a minute later, finding the comment quite punny.
“I’ll be the Olympic runner,” she says out of breath as she slams her car door shut. “You be the Olympic yapper and tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing.”
“Yeah, I was just kidding about all that.”
Her eyes turn to slits as she settles her phone in the stand on her dashboard. “I will cut you, bitch. Spill.”
I chuckle and dive straight in. “So, she took me to an arcade to meet her entire team.” I take a deep breath. “She’safemaledommewhoategrapesoutofmypussy.” I turn that phrase into one word. “This morning she took me to breakfast, and now we’re just kind of seeing how things go.”
