I traded my Converse All-Stars, green nail polish, ripped jeans and a sweater five sizes too big (Cole's) for Louboutin stilettos, mascara by the pound and a dress so snug PJ's been staring at me unabashedly now for upwards of twenty minutes.
I can see your heart beating, Bridge. You sure Lochlan's okay with this?
He's fine. I smile really big so he knows I'm lying.
I'll stay dressed tonight in case you need me.
Did I ever tell you you're my favorite?
If I was you wouldn't be going over there.
Don't, Padraig.
And you wouldn't be wearing that.
Enough. Please.
Enough what? Lochlan comes in. In a dress shirt. He refuses to indulge in Caleb's rules for my dress so he's pretending we decided to dress up tonight because we're a team. We are. Doesn't matter what we wear. And we always will be. Like Lindsey and Stevie. No matter what, no one ever pictures one without the other. At least I don't.
We're going to have drinks in the library and see if the evening holds. That's it. No promises, no expectations and no plans to see it through until morning because if Caleb woke up here there would be hell to pay and I'm pretty sure I covered that bill already.
With his money, though.
(I'm not stupid. Just crazy.)
(If he stays I'll kick him out around four. That's usually when Ben comes to bed and space or not, that just won't work.)
