Page 93 of Trip Me Up

33

NIALL

I glaredat the slippery tie in the mirror and tried again.

Maybe I struggled because I was left-handed. Had they given me the right-handed instructions by mistake, and I’d walked past the magical How to Tie a Bow Tiefor Leftiesinstruction sheet that would have taught me how to do it on the first try? The loop slid out of my fingers, leaving me pinching empty air. I started over.

The formalwear shop in the Las Vegas hotel had overwhelmed me so I’d hardly known up from down. All those oversized photos of brides and grooms, and one of them had looked like Sam, her hair up in a messy bun, holding her bouquet in one hand and her groom in the other, laughing in an unrestrained way that Sam never did.

Sam always held something back. Especially on our texts and calls over the past month. Once, I’d fumbled the phone and hit the video chat button by mistake. It’d been the best mistake of my life because I’d gotten to see her, the dark hair falling out of her bun, her violet eyes wide and surprised to see me. Even on video, she’d carefully schooled her face, biting her lip, promising nothing.

But tonight was the Tower Prize ceremony. She’d promised to come. And after the ceremony, I’d bring her up to my hotel room, and we’d talk. Face to face. No more deflections.

My hands trembled on the tie, but I pushed one loop through the other and slowly, carefully, tugged on the bow ends.

Fuck!It looked like a six-year-old’s shoelaces after an hour on the playground. I dug my fingers into the knot to untie it.

Why had I even tried it? I had a perfectly serviceable pre-tied bow tie hanging in the closet. It’d worked for the dozen or so formal events I’d attended sinceSecretshit the bestseller list. No one at the ceremony would even care.

Sam wouldn’t. She’d seen me in flannel shirts. T-shirts. Pajama pants. And a whole lot less. But—and this was the reason I’d run downstairs, my formal shirt barely tucked into my tux pants, and plunked down an absurd amount of money on a bow tie—Sam knew the real deal, and she deserved it.

I could’ve let the shop assistant tie it for me. Her pink-tipped fingers looked expert at it. But the thought of someone who wasn’t Sam touching me made the skin at the back of my neck itch. I’d tie the tie, and I hoped to God Sam would untie it later, sliding those delicate fingers of hers along the silk, trailing them down the placket of my shirt, loosening buttons as she went.

My dick gave a hopeful twitch, but it sagged back along my thigh when I looked at the crumpled mess of the tie. I couldn’t go down there looking like this.

Who could help me? Neither Heidi nor Qiana had come to the prize ceremony. Heidi told me they had an all-hands-on-deck situation back at the office.

I eyed my phone on the bathroom counter. This was one of the times I wished I had a real father, one I could ask about things like bow ties. My father had probably tied plenty. But Sam had shown me how to block and delete his number. I was done chasing his affirmation. The people who cared about me—like Sam—supported me without the chase.

Grandpa would laugh at me. The last month at the farm, he’d relentlessly poked fun at me for mooning over Sam. For doing my chores like a zombie. For checking my phone as often as a middle-school girl. For buying a laptop. The satellite internet I’d had a technician install. Though once he’d discovered that farmers’ dating site, StudFarm, he’d gone strangely quiet in his teasing.

I texted Gabi.Know how to tie a bow tie?

A minute later, she responded with a link. YouTube? Really? Sure, I had wifi at the farm now, but no way was I wandering off into the wilds of online video.

Heidi? Not if she was in crisis mode.

Qiana. Maybe she could take a break from whatever PR emergency and walk me through it. Having her author not look like a tatterdemalion fell into the responsibilities of a publicist, didn’t it?

I hit the call button and put it on speaker.

“Hey, Niall. Getting ready for your big night? I’m so sorry I can’t be there. I don’t know what Heidi’s big secret project is, but she’s called us all in tonight. I’m just grabbing a slice before I get on the subway. But I’ve got my fingers crossed for you and Sam.” And she squeed so loud I was glad I wasn’t holding the phone to my ear.

“Minor sartorial issue here. Do you know how to tie a bow tie?”

“Niall! You finally got rid of that high-school dance pre-tied one? I’m so proud. My little one has finally grown up.” She gave a big fake sniff.

I let a few seconds of silence tick by. “Are you done mocking me now? Because I’m about to hang up on you and slap on that pre-tied one.”

“No! I’m just having a little fun. Sheesh. Though she’s right about the growly.” Qiana made abrrnoise.

“Who’s right?”

“Shit. Nobody.”

“Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Of course. We’re friends. We’ve been checking in once a week.”

I opened my mouth to ask what she’d said about me, but Qiana had already teased me about my prom-style formalwear choices. I wasn’t about to give her fodder for another teenager jibe.

I checked my watch. Ten minutes until they opened the doors. I wanted to be there at the start so I’d be sure to spot Sam first. The tie. I needed to unfuck my tie.

“Qiana. You are the world’s best publicist. Can you please help me tie this goddamned tie?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this. My dad used to wear bow ties on Sundays. Put me on video.”

I tapped the button.

Nine minutes later, a crisply tied bow tie around my neck, I raced for the elevator. For Sam. We’d talk about our future. Together.

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