Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,29

with clusters of tiny pearls sewn into the bodice. A white faux-fur shawl is wrapped around the hanger. This is tonight’s outfit.

I will find Gigi at the gala, and soon this nightmare will be over.

Chapter Eight

I step outside at seven thirty on the dot. While I was getting dressed, Milo shouted that he needed gum and ran around the corner to the bodega. That was ten minutes ago. How long does it take to grab gum from the corner store?

Eleven minutes, apparently, because a minute later, he’s jogging down the street toward me … but he’s not wearing a tuxedo.

He reaches the stoop, and I look at him, horrified, absorbing the fact that he’s wearing a baggy brown suit. I’m so thrown by this, I don’t even realize he’s been staring at me with an appreciative smile on his face.

“Wow. Um, wow,” he says. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” Gigi’s black silk gown fits like a glove. I guess my hips did grow into something. I slowly walk down the steps and pause once I’m in front of him. “Milo … why are you wearing that?”

“This?” He casts a confused look down at his outfit. “It’s for the event.”

I shake my head. “You’re supposed to be wearing a tuxedo. That’s not a tuxedo.” I bite my lip. “And I’m sorry, but it’s also not very flattering.”

“You don’t think so?” he asks. “I wore it to all of my job interviews this summer. I got a compliment or two.”

I find that a little hard to believe, but I keep from saying so. Sighing, I pull out my phone to call a car. “Thank you for trying to help tonight, but I’ll have to go without you.”

“What?” he says, blinking. “Why?”

“The event is black tie! Look at what you’re wearing!”

He smooths a hand over his lapels and shakes his head. “What are you talking about? I like this suit.”

“That’s the problem,” I point out. “It’s a suit and not a tux.”

“Well, you’re wearing a wig. Why do you get to wear a wig, but I can’t wear my suit?”

Frowning, I finger-comb my bangs. “I’m wearing this because I’m not supposed to be seen in public, and I don’t want to be recognized. I told you that.” Wait, why am I explaining myself to him? “I’m calling a car. You can’t come with me. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, wait,” Milo says, covering my phone with his hand. “Vinny has a tux that he wears for school concerts. I’ll ask if I can borrow it.”

He starts texting at rapid speed, biting his lip as his fingers move. My eyes are drawn to his mouth and his gold nose ring. When he looks up, my cheeks get hot and I avert my gaze.

“Vinny said I can borrow his tux. We just need to go to my apartment so that I can change.”

I start to protest, but Milo insists that it won’t set us behind schedule because he doesn’t live too far from the Brooklyn Museum.

“Okay,” I finally say, remembering that two people looking for Gigi is better than one. “But I’m not taking the subway in six-inch heels.”

On the ride to Crown Heights, Milo tells me that he, Ben, and Raf moved in together after they graduated from Brooklyn Tech last year and that Vinny stays with them on weekends when he wants space from his parents.

They live in a walk-up that’s four stories high. I feel the burn in my thighs after climbing four flights of stairs, and I’m practically wheezing when we stop in front of his apartment door. I hear Bruno Mars’s “24K Magic” blasting on the other side.

“Are they having a party?” I ask.

Milo shakes his head and winces a little. “Um, I apologize in advance for what you’ll most likely witness once I open this door.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

Milo turns the knob and pushes the door open. Raf is standing in the middle of the living room, watching the “24K Magic” video on a small flat-screen TV, trying to replicate Bruno Mars’s moves. The music is so loud he doesn’t even hear us come inside.

The apartment is a small one-bedroom. The living room and tiny kitchen area are connected, and a short hallway to the right of the front door leads to a bathroom and a bedroom. A drum set is in the far right corner, taking up most of the available space. Clothes litter the couch, and a pile of dirty dishes sits