Page 45 of Love at First Sighting
“There,” I say. “You look beautiful.”
The last part slips out, but it’s true. El knows it, too. Her cheeks flush red, like these words feel special coming from me.
“Thank you.” Finally, she brings her thumb to her lips and bites down on her nail. “Bex, uh…Bex told me we were all supposed to wear neutrals or pastels, but I really wanted to wear this.”
Red. Daring. It commands the attention El deserves, to stand out rather than blend in with the crowd.
“I think you made a great choice, Agent Ariel.” I offer her a reassuring smile, which she returns.
“I’d say you look particularly nice, too, but…”
“It’s the same thing I wear every day?”
“You’re doing an awful job proving to me you have other clothes,” she says as she turns around. She settles at my tie and straightens it down the center of my chest. “Let’s go over the plan.”
“We’re going to mingle and act normal until we find a way to chat with Ian Forte. You’ll handle that part.”
“And you be my eyes.”
I nod. “Deal.”
It’s not the most ironclad plan in the world, but we don’t know our battlefield yet. El’s eyes flicker up to mine.
“You look nervous.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m a freshly shaken cocktail of inadequacy and simmering lust. “Is this going to be an issue? Us going to this thing together?”
El swallows. “I can’t say Bex and the others are going to be thrilled about it, but…”
“But what?”
“Remember what I said.Iwant you there. I want you therewith me.”
I don’t have time to ask if this is a date before someone bellows “YOU LOOK SO BANGIN” from downstairs. I swear to god, the windows might rattle.
“Who is that?” I ask.
El lets out a heavy sigh. “Let’s take you to meet the crew.”
El spritzes herself one last time with perfume, unplugs her curling iron, and steps into her room. We collect our thingsand she slides herself into a pair of strappy black heels. As we step out of her room, I tense up. I shouldn’t be afraid of these people, but if clout does more to keep these people running than coffee, I’m on empty.
The first person I notice is a man who has got to be at least six-six and is so built he could be mistaken for Optimus Prime. He looks like every greased-up guy they send to the beach to find love on a reality show, and there’s not a shirt in the world that could contain his biceps. I can also see too much of his nipples, so I divert my eyes.
Fondling one of the buttons on his shirt is a short, rail-thin girl with chunky blond highlights, wearing what I can only describe as an evening gown straight out of a Regency period piece. The third girl is blond and thin as well, wearing a dress that looks like a monotone art deco piece.
“Oh, what are youwearing?” Bossy Spice begins, in the most obviously fake British accent I’ve ever heard. “I thought we agreed to a scheme.”
“Yousuggestedit,” El says. “I didn’t like the suggestion.”
Bex—I presume—bites her lip and pink lipstick smudges on her front tooth. “Whatever. So, you’re Eloise’s—”
“Ariel,” El corrects.
“—El’s chap for the evening,” she finishes.
“Guys,” El says, gesturing to me, “this is Carter. My…he’s my date for this evening.”
Why’d she hesitate? Did she hesitate because she’s embarrassed? Or does she think I’d be embarrassed? Jesus, whatarewe? I really should have asked how we were playingthis, too, but truthfully, I was too nervous.
