Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“If you want to get over someone—even if it’s someone you never actually got under—you have to find someone else! Go find a new crush. Preferably someone who doesn’t make you feel insane. Someone nice. You used to like them that way.”
“And you told me they were boring,” I reminded her.
“They were!” she laughed. “But boring beats jerk.”
I thought about Con telling Julian my GPA with a strangely defensive note, like he was standing up for me. “He isn’t not nice,” I said.
“Hmm,” she said, unimpressed. “I’m going to need you to do better than that if you want me to support this crush.”
I winced. “It’s not a crush, Halley. It’s just—I don’t know. Temporary insanity.”
Before she got off the phone, she extracted a promise from me that I would go out this weekend. She threatened to call up her high school friends to drag me out to a club, but I told her I had a friend from work I could ask. I was thinking about Victoria, even though she was more of a neutral non-enemy than a friend. All we had in common was that we were both outcasts in Brand Development, but surely that was enough to grab a drink together after work. It wasn’t like we were being invited to the team happy hour anyway.
The next day, Victoria seemed surprised when I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink after work on Friday. I tried not to roll my eyes when hers instinctively went to Angelina Bangert, the team lead and queen bee of the social group. Angelina was in her office, back ramrod straight, fingers flying across her keyboard. She was nodding, and we could see her cherry red lips moving. Either mouthing along with what she was typing, or talking to someone on the phone, we couldn’t tell.
“I guess so,” Victoria said slowly, her eyes coming back to mine. “Friday isn’t really a day that people do things though.”
I knew what she meant, and it made me want to roll my eyes again. If you were trying to break into the LA scene, you were more likely to see interesting people mid-week than on a weekend. And it seemed like everyone into this office wanted to break into the scene. “I figured you’d be busy earlier in the week,” I said more generously than I would have thought possible. I must really be desperate to get out.
Victoria was pleased by my assumption that she was very busy on the more important nights of the week. “I suppose I could,” she said. “Where do you want to go?”
I had no idea where there was to go, and I said so. Victoria sighed gustily. “Of course you don’t. Let me talk to some of my friends, see what’s happening on Friday. If there’s anything happening.”
I felt a surge of mild alarm. I didn’t want to go to anything that was happening. I thought we’d go to a bar or restaurant nearby, take advantage of the happy hour, and I’d hopefully meet some nice guy to take my mind off Con. But on Wednesday, Victoria announced officiously, “I’ve figured out what we can do on Friday. There’s an opening in WEHO. People should be there.”
The way she emphasized the word people told me she didn’t just mean anyone. I cringed inwardly. I didn’t want to meet people. “Where’s WEHO?” I asked.
“Haha,” Victoria said drolly. “Make sure you dress up on Friday, okay?”
I called Halley later and found out that WEHO was an acronym for West Hollywood. “That’s dumb,” I complained, a prickle of embarrassment running down the back of my neck.
“Is it?” Halley laughed. “I never thought about it. It’s like SOHO or TriBeCa in New York. Everyone knows what it means.”
I didn’t know what either of those things meant. “I’m from Ohio,” I reminded her. “And we just say the whole names. It’s not hard. Dayton. Columbus. Yellow Springs.”
“Very good,” Halley said politely.
“Thank you.” I ignored the patronizing note in her voice in favor of frowning into my closet. “I have no idea what to wear.”
We switched to FaceTime so Halley could inspect the contents of my closet. When she agreed that there was nothing suitable, she sent me to the guest room closet to retrieve some of her clothing.
“These are too small,” I complained as I tried on various outfits, trying to find something that didn’t feel like I was painting it on. I frowned at the phone that I’d propped up on the nightstand.
“They’re not too small,” Halley corrected, her voice sounding small and faraway. She glanced up from the paper she was writing. “That one is good. Wear that.”
I looked in the mirror again. It was the best option so far. It was a black dress with thin straps that looked simple when it was hanging up, but the thin, rich fabric slicked down my body, accentuating my curves and setting off my blonde hair. Somehow it made my waist look smaller and my chest bigger. I still didn’t look a thing like the models I saw everywhere, but I didn’t look bad. I tugged at the scooped neckline.