Page 89 of Hard to Resist

“Open it.” She’s trying to contain her smile, but the apples of her cheeks round and create those little crinkles around her excited eyes.

I peel the envelope open and pluck out the paper inside. My heart leaps when I realize it’s a ticket to one of my favorite ballets of all time.

“Shut up. Han. Swan Lake? I’ve been dying to go.”

“I know.”

“This is for me?”

“Sure is. My boss had a spare ticket up for grabs, so I jumped on it. Which wasn’t that hard because all the dude-bros I work with weren’t interested.”

“Holy crap, this seat is amazing. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“And skip out on banging James? I appreciate the ballet, Vee, but I appreciate that man’s dick more.”

“Thank you.” I wrap her in a quick hug before going back to admiring the shiny ticket. “I needed this.”

Since breaking up with Cullen, I’ve had little motivation to try going on new dates. Any time I opened a dating app, I just kept swiping left because none of the men smiled the way he does.

Which means I spent last weekend cooped up in the apartment doing nothing while hearing the busy city buzz around me. All my friends were preoccupied with their own dates or out of town, and that just made me feel even lonelier because my solidarity was a result of my own choices.

I’ve been silently dreading another weekend on my own, but this changes everything.

I will get myself all dressed up, almost like a little me date, and enjoy the ballet. Maybe I’ll even splurge on a glass of bubbles and remind myself that I am okay.

“Oh my God, Vee! You finally got a Goyard?”

“Huh?”

I pull my attention from the ticket to the yellow drawstring bag dangling from Hannah’s fingers.

“Don’thuhme. This is a huge deal. Which one did you get? Are we twinning? You know, I didn’t want to say anything, but that tote of yours is literally on its last legs. I was this close to buying you one myself and forcing you to accept it.”

“That’s not yours?”

She frowns, tossing her thumb at the bag on the dining table. “No. That’s mine.”

“I know, but…you didn’t order a new one?”

“No. I told you I was eyeing that Dior one, remember?”

“But, then I don’t—” I cut myself off with a confused sigh.

If Hannah didn’t order it, and I didn’t order it, then what the hell is it doing here?

Hannah doesn’t seem to pick up on my mental puzzle solving and proceeds to pull the handbag out from its cloth cover. The stunning tote is a mirror of the one she owns, except hers is dark green and this one is deep blue.

Ugh, it is pretty.

Hannah lifts the bag to her nose and takes a sniff, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I love that new bag smell. So damn addictive.”

“Hey, don’t shove your face all over it.”

“If this is your new work bag, my face is the least dirty thing it’s going to touch.”

My brain can’t fathom the idea of such an expensive bag being used for my commute. Something like that should be perched in the closet in its protective bag.

“It’s not mine.”

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