Page 11 of Wardrobe Malfunction

“She still dating that dick? The one she moved to LA with.”

“Jeremy. She didn’t say otherwise, so I’d say so.”

The timer goes off on the microwave. Nick gets the bowl out and puts it in front of me before handing me a spoon.

“Well, I only just got you back. The place is too quiet without you. Gonna miss you, gorgeous.”

Warmth coats my skin, and my throat thickens. It’s always good to know that someone’s going to miss me. After never having anyone to miss me in my Philly life, it means a lot, having Nick.

“I’ll miss you, too.” I smile.

“So, how long’s the job for?” he asks, getting a couple of beers out of the fridge. He pulls the tops off and hands me one.

“Couple of months,” I answer, taking the beer and putting it down on the counter. Spooning up some soup, I blow on it before putting it in my mouth. “But the pay is good. Really good.”

“I’m happy for you.” He lifts his bottle to me, so I pick mine up and chink it with his.

“Thanks.” I take a sip of my beer.

“So, Vaughn West, eh?” Nick gives me a suggestive look.

“Ha! As if! He’s way out of my league. Like galaxies out of my league.” I put my bottle down.

“You’re beautiful, and you know it.”

Beautiful might be pushing it. Okay, so I’ve never had a problem with getting guys in the past. Just not Vaughn West kind of guys.

“The guy dates actresses and supermodels. Not normal girls like me.” I point a finger at myself.

“And he just had his heart broken by that bitch Piper Watts. You could fix it for him, Charly.” He gives me a suggestive look. “A normal girl might be just what he needs right now.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Doubtful. The closest I’ll be getting to Vaughn West is when I take his inner leg measurement.”

Charly

Landing in at LAX after a six-hour flight and with the three-hour time difference, I feel like I haven’t slept for a week even though I slept a good eight hours last night. It’s all this traveling. I’m jet-lagged as hell. My body doesn’t know which time zone it’s in.

I’m so ready to get a cab and check in to my hotel and sleep.

I grab my case off the carousel, hitch my fake Gucci up onto my shoulder, and head out in the direction of Arrivals, texting Nick to let him know I landed.

I walk through the open door into Arrivals.

“Charly!”

At the sound of my name, I lift my head from my phone.

“Ava.” I grin.

Pressing Send on the text, I drop my cell in my bag and make my way over to her.

“Hey.” She embraces me in a hug. “How was your flight?”

“Long.” I chuckle. “You look great,” I tell her, stepping out of her hold.

I’ve always been uncomfortable when people hug me. It comes from a lifetime of never being hugged, I guess.

Ava is really pretty and my total opposite. Where I’m tall and blonde, she’s small and brunette. And she’s a little older than me. Ava is twenty-eight, and I’m twenty-five.