Chapter One
Zora
Zora Monroe rubbed her arms as she looked up at the old building wishing she had taken one more shot of tequila before she left the house. “Brr. I’m freakin’ freezing.” Her top lip curled as she sighed. “Tell me again why we couldn’t meet somewhere else…indoors, brighter, maybe less sketchy-looking.”
She and her best friend, Olivia, were at some place a few blocks off Burnside Street near the concert hall, but she’d never been to this particular spot. From the outside, it looked like any other ancient gray, unmarked hole in the wall—nothing fancy that would have caught her attention otherwise. If not for the glare of the neon lights from the Portland sign, Zora’s guard might have been raised higher than it already was.
The skimpy blue dress Oli had forced her into certainly wasn’t keeping her warm, but just the look of the building had the hairs on the back of her bare neck standing taller than the spikes of her pixie cut.
“Try to remember this is a night for celebration and not some deranged plot to get you out the house,” Oli said with a straight face. Her eyes twinkled the tiniest bit, though.
“That’s what you keep telling me.” Zora peeked at her phone. Three little irritating dots were still sitting there baiting her.
“We’re going to toast to you getting the best agent out there for your cookbook, and then we’re all going to dance and drink way too much, and, hopefully, we won’t remember any of it in the morning.”
Ah, yes. The foolproof plan.
Though she was still feigning irritation, a smile crept across Zora’s face because all of it did sound amazing. Well, except for the whole “drink way too much” part of it. She and alcohol were a slightly less greasy version of oil and vinegar: they did not mix.
“Wait a minute. Who is ‘we all?’” she asked.
To this, Oli grinned and moved forward in the line before she turned her gaze back.
“Well, Sophia’s scared about her little baby bump, and Everett goes where she goes, so they won’t make it, but…” She dragged the word out. “Kara, Steph, Remi, and Lexi said they should make it…” Her brows danced and she bit back a shit-eating grin like she was going to burst if she held in the rest too long.
“And?” Zora slowly lowered her chin to her chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The crisp air shimmied up her arms, causing a shiver to vibrate through her, but she maintained her focus on Oli.
“And…you’ll finally get to meet Andre.”
Zora sighed, and her arms slumped at her sides. Disappointment hummed through her body.
Andre. The dude Oli met at a concert a few months back, smashed, friend-zoned, and was apparently the perfect leftover to regift to her best friend.
Yay, me!
“Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. Who else?”
“Oh, do you mean Mike?” She pursed her lips and lightly tugged her earlobe—a surefire sign she was lying. “No. I didn’t invite him.”
Zora squinted her eyes at Oli, reading her.
“So, Mike is coming? I saw that little lippy earlobe thing you always do.”
“No. He…was not invited.” She shrugged and pivoted back toward the front of the line.
Zora stared for a few more seconds hoping to break her. Her friend was hell-bent on keeping whatever scheme she was up to under wraps.
The only problem was, when Zora allowed herself to be talked into this skanky dress, she imagined Mike’s tongue falling to the floor when he saw her in it. If he wasn’t going to be at the club…well, that just sucked. She was going to be stuck in a skimpy getup that highlighted every one of her physical insecurities. The skintight blue dress, the clear five-inch heels, and the pancake makeup were all part of a costume, handpicked by her best friend, to supposedly boost her confidence and make her look fierce. As it turned out, it was all a big charade so she could meet a hand-me-down guy.
Perfect.
The thing was, Mike wasn’t just any guy. He was her brother’s best friend. Or, rather, her brother’s older, disarmingly scrumptious best friend who’d been her “pedestal guy” for years. Over those years, no one had measured up because her fun-sized kid crush had developed into an insanely good-looking, green-eyed stunner with a lean build and broad shoulders.
“So, who else, then?” Zora snapped then immediately bit her tongue because the irritation in her voice was too telling and needed to be stopped. She tried not to let her shoulders slump.
“I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeves.” Oli tossed a mischievous look over her shoulder before looking away. She knew Zora could read her better than anyone.
Again, why on earth did I let Oli talk me out of staying in?
“I’ll have you know I’m missing an eighties movie marathon for this. You know, they’re starting with Weird Science.”
“Oh ’you know, your basic high school orgy type of thing.’ ‘It’s a mindscrambler.’ ‘Hurts so good,’” Oli said in her best British accent. She was mocking Kelly LeBrock. Her thick brows dropped into a deep V, and beneath them, her brown eyes skewed into beady lasers. Everything about Oli fit the bill of sex goddess—her blunt-cut black bob, her olive-toned skin, and her full pout.
Blush pink bandage dresses worked for Oli because she had a banging body with normal-sized breasts and killer calves. She was perfection science couldn’t manufacture, but a terrible actress, nevertheless.
A sex goddess, Zora was not.
Even with her best friend’s fashion advice and styling, aside from the shimmery blue nails, none of her getup made her feel like herself. She’d tried to help Oli see that playing someone else’s cards would only leave her lost in the shuffle.
She wanted no part of losing herself for a man.
She hugged her arms to her chest and bit back the chattering of her teeth.
“Whatever, Buttwad. The fact that you quoted the movie proves my point.”
“Oh, you might miss it!” Oli put the back of her hand to her forehead in distress. “It’s been out for like thirty-five years. I’m sure you already own it, along with every other movie released that decade, so just be present and enjoy yourself, for once.”
In the midst of all the shivering and merriment, Zora’s phone pinged, and now she really was excited.
It was her turn.
After a couple of minutes, she bit her bottom lip and thought for a second before tapping out a message rapid-fire on her phone. Her thumb hovered over the small green vertical arrow while she considered whether to send it.
Zora:
1. Haggis burgers are going to be the secret weapon for my cookbook.
2. I’m home with Oli on the couch binge-watching the second season of Stranger Things.
3. I’ve been forced to listen to Ev and Soph have sex for the fifth time today.
Ugh, this is too easy.
Zora could feel a serious case of side-eye coming from Oli’s general direction. Together they inched forward along the black velvet ropes. Before she could second-guess it, she pressed send. Almost instantly, the phone pinged again.
Her smile was too wide to suppress.
“You’re about to meet a fine-ass man, and while you should be practicing your stale flirting skills, you’re seriously playing two truths and a lie with Mike?”