Page 66 of Tied Up in Riches

When he found me again, something was different. I swear he was jealous when I was bantering with the bartender about the ridiculous quirks of rich people. Then he clung to me in a way he hadn’t before. And was adamant about us leaving. So maybe it is more than just doing his job. Or maybe I’m imagining things the way I want them to be. Maybe he wanted to leave simply so he no longer had to deal with the drama.

I lather my face wash in my hands before scrubbing it over my face and rinsing away the remnants of tonight’s glitter along with Marcus’ kiss. Should I ask him about it? Should I try to kiss him again?

Stepping from the shower into the steam filled bathroom, I reach for the white hotel towel from the hook on the wall and wrap it around my body. Oh shit, I forgot to grab my pajamas–well Marcus’ T-shirt. My black sparkly dress lays folded where I left it on the bathroom counter. I could put it back on to go get . . . what is that?

Folded neatly next to my dress is deep purple silk fabric. Twisting my towel securely above my chest, I reach for it, holding it in front of me. The camisole unfolds as I hold it from the spaghetti straps. I lay it on top of my dress, replacing it with the pajama shorts. They’re the same shade of plum but the bottom hem is lined with a thin layer of lace.

They’re soft and beautiful and . . . I didn’t even hear Marcus come in here. He got these for me?

Oh.

Maybe he doesn’t want me wearing his clothes anymore. That would make sense. I forgot my pajamas, and he was kind enough to buy me some.

I swipe my hand across the fogged up mirror then run my fingers under my eyes to clear away the last of my residual makeup. Dropping my towel, I reach for the shorts, the silky fabric soft as it glides up my freshly shaved legs. I pull the top over my hair, still dry and in a pretty bun from earlier. I’m shocked it’s stayed mostly in place since I took out the pins.

Facing the mirror, I run my hand over it again, clearing away the new layer of fog. It’s the perfect size. I’d say it maybe errs on the side of too revealing, but I have been sleeping in nothing but Marcus’ shirt, and there’s no way that falls longer than these.

Panicking, I swipe my phone from the bathroom counter, turning off the music I didn’t even register I had playing during my shower.

Brooke: What a mess.

Maci: What’s going on?!

Brooke: Beau is being a dick, as per usual.

Lexy: Troy is great at punching douchebags. Happy to lend you his services.

I send them a picture of my new pajamas in the mirror that’s fogged back over a bit.

Avery: Is that what you’ve been wearing to bed with Marcus?!

Maci: I hope so! You’re a total babe!

Brooke: He just bought them for me.

Lexy: A gift?! STOP. How fucking cute. Please keep him.

Brooke: He also kissed me.

Avery: Excuse me?? Why are you telling us about pajamas and exes?

Brooke: It was a fake kiss. In front of Beau.

Avery: Was it good?

Brooke: I can’t stop thinking about it.

Maci: IT’S HAPPENING!! Just think of all the double dates we can go on!!!

Brooke: I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. Plus, I probably pissed him off yesterday.

Maci: How?

Brooke: Well…he kind of, sort of, maybe fingered me.

Lexy: How exactly do you kind of, sort of do that?

Brooke: Okay, fine. He did.