Fold

There's a heavy ache in my chest as I head for the exit, and it only grows when I feel a soft tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, stranger.” Jess frowns when I look up at her. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I think I'm a little jet-lagged is all.” I nod to the dance floor. “This is great, though. Everyone's having a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, except you.”

I open my mouth to protest because I don't want to be a party pooper and ruin her evening, but words fail me when she leans in suggestively and says, “How can we change that?”

Without waiting for an answer, she leads me to a booth in some dark corner of the bar.

“Here.” She picks up a glass of what appears to be champagne. “It's the good stuff, I promise.”

I should decline, I know this. I should save us both the trouble and walk back up to my room.

I should...but I don't.

Because if I'm going to be locked up like a bird in a cage for the next year of my life? I want one last night of freedom.

And I want it with the irresistible, sexy girl standing in front of me. The girl looking at me like she wants me every bit as much as I want her.

My nerves kick up a notch and I take the glass with shaky fingers. Jess reminds me of expensive jewelry. Gorgeous and stylish, but I can't help but feel like a kid about to play dress up whenever I look at her. She's only two years older than I am, but she's light years ahead of me in all the ways that count.

She's cooler, smarter, better looking, and so much more badass than I'll ever be. She knows exactly who she is and she wears her self-assurance like a crown.

But me? I'm awkward, weird, sensitive, and emotional. My mood changes with the color of my socks and my idea of the perfect date is scarfing down a burrito at a tattoo parlor instead of fancy restaurants or clubs. And even though I'm twenty-four and officially an adult—most days I feel like I'm only half my age.

Just like that, my mind slams into overdrive—because what if everything I am turns out to be the very qualities she hates? What if I’m too strange for her? What if I screw this up like I do everything else? What if she finds out about the inheritance and uses me like every other girl before her has? What if Juan's right about me being clingy?

What if I never find out any of those things because I lost my one and only shot with her? All because I wasn’t honest about the predicament I’m in.

“Kit?” Her velvety voice pulls me from my thoughts. “What's going on?”

“Look, I'm not sure where this is going,” I say without stopping for air. “But before things get serious between us, I think I owe it to you to tell—”

She places her finger over my lips. “You are so adorable, but you’re way too worked up right now.”

She's right. Forget clingy—that ship has already sailed. I'm on the express boat to neurotic land.

Jess gave me a glass of champagne, not an invitation to move in with her. I look at Marge who's pretending to reel in Jimmy on the dance floor and sigh.

Damn you, Marge. No more lunches and flowers.

“What?”

My cheeks heat when I realize I said that aloud. “Sorry, I was zoning out.” I take a sip of my drink. “You're right, this is good.”

She starts to smile, but a group of ridiculously attractive people walking by snags her attention. “Hey, guys.” She waves the beautiful people over. “Kit, these are some of your new co-workers.” She rattles off a list of names, but none of them stick. I'm too focused on their appearances, which is horrible, I know—but they all look like they walked off an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Only they're wearing way less clothing...which is impressive.

And that's when I realize. She means those new co-workers. The talent.

Jess invites them into the booth with us, and before I know what's happening, our quiet corner is being infiltrated by porn stars.

I finish off my glass of champagne and try not to sulk. Talent indeed. They're completely cock and titty blocking my date with my boss. How the hell am I supposed to compete with implants and—fuck me, because the girl snorting a line of coke off some dude's six-pack is wearing pasties that barely cover her nipples.

The guy pretending to be a human table waggles his eyebrows at me. “Hey, hot stuff. You party?”

Not like this, I don't. “I'm good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

I look over and see Jess typing away on her cell phone while some girl leans in a little too close for comfort and giggles at whatever Jess is typing. A moment later, the guy next to her orders a round of shots before he rolls up a dollar bill and snorts a line off the human table.

God, I'm far from a prude, but this isn't my scene. Not anymore.

When table boy and pastie girl start making out, I take the opportunity to slide out of the booth.

I'm searching for Juan so I can apologize for earlier when Jess runs over to me. I start thinking of an excuse to give her, but every single one evaporates when she drags me off to another dark corner.

Only this time—she kisses me.

I want to pinch myself to make sure this is truly happening, but I'm too afraid if I do it will end.

Our kiss is equal parts playful and manic and I'm out of breath when she pulls back. “You're cute when you're jealous.”

It takes me a second to grasp that she thinks it’s the reason I walked away. I'm not quite sure how to respond because everything's becoming hazy due to both the alcohol and the kiss.

She ruffles my hair. “But she’s not who I want to hang out with right now.”

I swallow a gulp of air, my head spi

Her lips find mine again, effectively silencing me.

“I know that mind of yours is going a mile a minute,” she says between kisses. “But you need to relax and have some fun tonight. We can be serious tomorrow, okay?”

My body goes slack against the wall when her lips nuzzle my neck. Maybe having fun isn't such a bad idea after all. Tension coils low in my belly when her tongue flicks my ear, and I'm reminded that it's been well over a year since I last had sex. If it weren't for a few of my favorite Pretty Kitty sex toys helping me out, I probably would have caved and taken home anything in a skirt a long time ago.

But I didn't. No matter how lonely I got—I stayed strong, stayed single, and stayed focused on getting my life back together.

I gasp when she slides a finger up my thigh. And this is my reward.

“You want to have fun with me tonight?” she purrs coyly.

I close my eyes and nod. I don't want to do something stupid like babble and ruin the moment.

She kisses me again, and something chalky lands on my tongue. It tastes horrible and I go to spit it out, but she hands me her glass of champagne.

“Here, this should help it go down easier.”

“I don't do drugs.”

“Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just a little something to help you loosen up and enjoy yourself.”

When I give her a look, she pulls a small tin out of her cleavage and pops a tab in her mouth. “See? Perfectly safe.”

I want to tell her that I'd be enjoying myself plenty without any substances, but she tilts my chin up and says, “I'd never hurt you.”

I should know better than to listen to her because I've heard those very same words from people who have done nothing but hurt me.

But Jess isn't like the others. That’s why I like her so much. She's never once given me a reason not to trust her. Not even so much as a warning sign.