Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,8
anyone I’d ever known.
“First,” she said, standing and strutting a circle before me. “I wouldn’t let his deep, velvet, sexy voice make me all wet and weak in the knees.”
“I didn’t say that it did. And I never used the word velvet.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious. I mean, I’d recommend going pantyless, but damn girl, the way you fidget when you talk about him, I’d be afraid the material of your dress would give you away.”
I raised my chin. “I disagree.” I sounded confident, but the memory of the beach towel forced me to face the fact—I was at the very least mildly turned on by this man.
“So you’re willing to take off—”
“No! Tonight isn’t going that far. My panties or lack thereof won’t be a conversation topic.”
“No one said anything about conversation topics,” she added as she leaned against the far wall, crossed her arms over her chest and stared me up and down. “Face it. You’re beautiful, and in that outfit you’re stunning. Listen to me. I know you have shit you’ve never told me. It’s none of my business. That shit is Alex’s or maybe Alexandria’s—I don’t know. Tonight, be Charli. Be bold, be fun, and play out your fantasy.
“How often does some hot man walk into your life without any hold on your future? You’re leaving for Columbia soon. You don’t need this guy. Have fun with him. Hell, use him. Men have been doing it to women forever. This is our fun, no-regret week. You only get one of those in a lifetime.”
I sat taller. “You still haven’t said what you’d do.”
“I’d find out as little as I could about him. The less you know, the less connected you’ll be. I’d eat a little, drink a little too much, and I’d explore every position—except missionary—that I’ve ever known or he was willing to teach me.”
I glanced over at the clock. “Well, if I’m really doing this, this shit is about to get real. I’m supposed to be there in less than an hour.”
“The presidential suite isn’t that far away.” Chelsea reached for my hand. “Let’s go to the bar and have a pre-mystery-date drink, a liquid boost of courage. My treat.”
I wasn’t much of a drinker, but if I was really going to go through with this, liquid courage sounded like a great idea. “Your treat?”
I loved Chelsea, but Stanford wasn’t her college because she could afford it. Actually, she’d only attended there her freshman year by the grace of scholarships. That’s when we met, paired together by fate. Some of her choices didn’t sit well with the administration and her grades wouldn’t allow her to keep her scholarships. After our freshman year, she transferred to a state college. Even though we didn’t take classes together, we’d become too close to part ways. We found an apartment together, off campus.
I’d like to think that we’ve helped each other. My determination rubbed off and she worked hard. The fact that she still graduated in four years made me as proud of her as my own achievements did of me. We both accomplished our goal. Her degree just had a different school’s name at the top.
While I was the studier, she was the survivor. She knew more about the game of people like Shaun because she did what she needed to do. And even though she was now a college graduate, extra money wasn’t one of her luxuries.
“Well,” she said with a wink. “I was going to sign the receipt. You did book this room in my name after all.”
I stood. “I did. If Alex or Alexandria isn’t who I am this week, I didn’t want my name on the reservation. I mean, Charli with an i can’t be listed on the reservation.” I shrugged. “She doesn’t have a last name.”
“Oh! I know! We could be sisters! You can share my last name.”
As I grabbed my small purse and took one last look at the creation in the mirror, I shrugged. “Our eyes are different colors. Yours are hazel and mine are some weird shade of brown.”
Chelsea hugged my shoulder and looked at us in the mirror. With her head close to mine, she said, “Our hair could be the same color. I’ve changed mine so many times, I forget what it really is. And hazel is close to gold. That’s the color I’ve always used to describe your eyes—golden.”
“Okay, sisters it is. And if I’m not back by midnight—”