Page 12 of Wardrobe Malfunction

“The California sun is really working for you,” I tell her. “Those highlights or sun-bleached?”

“Sun-bleached.” She flicks a hand through her poker-straight hair.

“I’m seriously envying your tan right now as well.” I glance down at my white arms. Even though it was hot in Nashville, I didn’t catch a tan. I’m one of those people who has to sunbathe for hours to catch even a little color.

“Yeah, but you look great, and I’m loving your hair,” she says, moving to the side to examine my hair. “Is that pink and purple you have in there?”

“Pink and lavender,” I tell her.

“I might have to get some in my hair.”

“You totally should.”

“Cool. Something for us to do together while we’re here.” She threads her arm through mine. “We should get moving. I parked in short-term.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” I say as we walk through the airport. “I thought I’d be grabbing a cab.”

“As if!” She laughs.

We push through the doors into the LA sunshine.

“Welcome to LA.” She squeezes my arm with hers. “You been here before?”

“First time.”

“You’re gonna love it!”

She leads me over to her car, which is one of those Smart cars.

“Um, will my case fit in there?” I ask, skeptically eyeing the car.

“Course it will.” She laughs a bright and breezy sound, opening the trunk.

Surprisingly, my case fits in easily, with room to spare. Guess they’re bigger than they look.

I climb in the passenger seat and strap myself in. The car feels really light and not sturdy at all.

“You sure we won’t blow away with a strong gust of wind?” I ask as she turns the engine on.

The sound of Machine Gun Kelly and Camila Cabello’s “Bad Things” blasts out her stereo. I love this song.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t be hating on Sunny,” she says over the music. “And do you see any wind around here?”

“First off, you named your car Sunny? And, second, you can’t see wind. It’s invisible.”

She laughs loudly. “God, I forgot what a smart-ass you are! I’ve missed you, babe. So glad you’re here.”

There’s something in her tone that doesn’t sound like she’s totally happy, but I don’t ask. She’ll tell me if and when she wants to.

“That’s why you love me—my smart mouth.”

“And your ability to sniff out a designer sale in a ten-mile radius.”

“It’s a gift.” I dramatically flick my hand, making her laugh again.

“Where are you staying?” Ava asks as she pulls onto the highway.

“Um…” I dig out the paperwork I printed last night from my bag. “The Comfort Inn on Sunset Boulevard.”