Oh I do, do I?
Asher:
Don’t be a brat, you know you want to be a good girl.
Oh, hot damn. A text message shouldn’t make me squeeze my thighs together.
Asher:
Now, do as I asked and be ready for 8.
Me:
Yes, sir ;)
I grin as I hit send, and Penn clears her throat. “And who was that smile for, huh?”
My cheeks heat as I laugh a little. “Turns out I have plans tomorrow night now too.”
* * *
I check my reflection in the mirror, wondering how Penn convinced me this outfit was a good idea. My dark tresses have new streaks of red flashed back through it after our trip to the salon earlier. I have a black crop top with a dark pair of ripped jeans, finished with a pair of heeled boots borrowed from Penn and a black blazer with lace arms.
My makeup is dark and smokey with red lips to match my hair and my newly painted fire-truck-red nails.
I look nothing like myself, but I’m pretty sure I fit the requirement of nice, but not too nice. Especially when I look at Penn in her little black dress, cute slingback shoes, and her red hair, which now has blonde highlights, pulled back from her face with a few strands left loose to frame it.
“You look smokin’,” she tells me, and I smile.
“Maybe, but have you seen you? Freaking stunning. Connor isn’t going to know what hit him.”
She opens her mouth to respond but a knock sounds on the door. “Right on time.” She grins as she moves to the door and opens it.
“Holy…” Connor’s voice trails off and I put my head round the door to take in the look on his face. His jaw is slack and his eyes are wide. “Penn, you look… phenomenal.”
“You clean up nice too,” she says, coyly clasping the lapels of his jacket. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” he says entirely too fast, and I clamp my lips together to hold back a laugh. “I mean, sure, let’s go.”
“I’ll see you later, B.”
“Have fun, you guys,” I say with a finger wave, closing the door behind them. Seconds later, there's another knock.
I check the peep hole and see Asher on the other side. Damn, that boy is way too freaking hot. I open the door and he whistles as his gaze rakes over my body. “I am a lucky guy.”
“Yes, yes you are. I’m freaking awesome,” I say, sticking out my tongue.
“You won’t find me saying otherwise,” he retorts with a grin, and I take in his shirt, jeans, and shoes look.
“Am I overdressed?” I ask, suddenly nervous. Especially since I’m wayyyy out of my usual comfort zone clothes-wise, yet again.
“Not even a little, come on. The car is waiting.”
“The car,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I make sure I have my phone, wallet, and keys before locking up the room and letting him lead me outside to where a black luxury sedan idles at the curb.
He actually meant a car was waiting.
Fucking rich people, man. I will never get used to this.