Five minutes early because I’m pathologically punctual, but also because I’ve been ready for an hour, and sitting at home was making me insane. I check my hair in the rearview mirror, grab the flowers from the passenger seat—colorful gerbera daises, because she mentioned once that roses felt too cliché—and head inside.
Fourth floor. No elevator. By the time I reach her door, I remember why she complained about this walk-up.
I knock, and when she opens the door, I forget how to breathe.
She’s wearing a deep red dress that stops just above her knees—simple but stunning. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, and she’s adorned with earrings I’ve never seen before—small gold hoops that catch the light when she moves. She’s wearing lipstick. I’ve never seen her in lipstick before—and it’s distracting as hell. She’s a knockout.
“Hi,” she says, sounding almost shy.
“Hi.” I hold out the flowers. “These are for you.”
“They’re beautiful.” She takes them, and her whole face softens.
She looks up at me, and for a moment, we just stand there, grinning at each other like idiots.
“I should put these in water,” she says. “Come in for a second?”
I follow her inside and notice the woman on the couch.
She’s curled up under a blanket, laptop open, hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She looks up when we walk in, and I realize this must be Winnie—the best friend, the yoga instructor, the one who just left her boyfriend.Yikes.
“Oh.” She sits up straighter, her eyes widening a bit. “Hi.”
“Winnie, this is Zayden. Zayden, Winnie.” Tori gestures between us while heading toward the kitchen. “I need to put these in water.”
“Hey.” I give an awkward wave. “Uh, sorry about the breakup.”
Winnie blinks. “Thanks?”
“Tori mentioned it. The guy sounds like a jerk.”
“He is a jerk.” She almost smiles. “A very large, fantasy-football-obsessed jerk.”
“I could kick his ass if you want. I know people.”
Now she actually laughs. “I appreciate the offer, but I think public humiliation via word of mouth will be more satisfying than physical violence.”
“Fair enough. But the offer stands.”
Tori reappears from the kitchen, flowers now arranged in a tall glass that’s definitely not a vase. She sets them on the counter and grabs her clutch from the coffee table.
“Don’t wait up,” she tells Winnie.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Winnie waggles her eyebrows. “Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That leaves a lot of options,” Tori replies dryly.
“Exactly.”
“Okay.” Tori turns to face me. “I’m ready.”
“You look incredible.”
“You already said that—with your eyes, when I opened the door.”
“I’m saying it again—with words this time.” I offer her my arm. “Shall we?”
She takes it, and we head out into the night.
