Page 108 of Broken Romeo

I groan and flop onto my bed. “Nothing useful. Cocktail attire,” I repeat his text and throw air quotes around it. “What the fuck even is cocktail attire?”

“Like… cocktail dresses,” Jill says. There’s a distinct screech of the hangers sliding along the metal bar in my closet as she searches through my small selection. “So, Holden really said nothing else about the party? Even when he made such a big deal about not going?”

My sigh is all the answer she really needs. “Not a word. We spent the whole rehearsal working on my duet with Nolan. And when it came time for us to have our solo rehearsal, he sent me home early. Which may not bode well for my getting a contract… if he’s sending me home early from rehearsals when we only have a couple left.”

“Or it’s a good sign. Maybe it means he’s really happy with the improvements you’ve made, and you don’t need as many rehearsals.”

Maybe. But I doubt it. I just can’t figure that guy out. He’s like an escape room, full of puzzles and misdirects that lead nowhere.

“Here,” Jill says. “What about this one?”

I push up onto my elbows as she pulls a black strapless dress from my closet.

I scrunch my nose at the dress which had been a David’s Bridal find for my sister’s wedding.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’ll do. I guess.”

She hangs it up on my closet door. “It’ll look amazing. Do that swoopy soft curl thing you do with the flat iron, too. It’s sexy and understated. I’ll see you when you get home.”

I follow Jill into the hallway as she packs up her laptop and notebooks. “Where are you going?”

“I have my critique group, remember?”

I take in her outfit. Even though her hair is in its messy bun, she’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear for a critique group. And she’s got on her tight jeans and a sexy green lace crop top. “You’re going to a critique group dressed like that?”

“I might be meeting up with someone after.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Hmmm. Might be? I want to hear about this guy when you get home and what he’s done to deserve your lucky scrunchie,” I add, noting the glittery silk scrunchie that Jill reserves for important nights.

She gives my hair a little, teasing tug. “Deal. If he’s worth telling you about, I promise I’ll dish later. Now go get ready!”

With a smile and a wave, she’s out the door and gone for the night.

An hour later, I’m out of the shower, putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup.

I pull back, examining my reflection feeling pretty pleased with myself. I don’t have a stylist, or a makeup artist, yet I look polished and sophisticated in a way I typically don’t.

I still have an hour before Nolan’s car service will be here.

Not Nolan himself, of course. Nolan’s mouth had screwed into a frown when I gave him shit for not picking me up for this party himself, and he’d teased me about already making the trip all the way out to Brooklyn once this week. Apparently, the next movie night is going to be at his apartment.

My phone chimes and I lift it to see a text from Holden.

Holden:

Do you need a ride tonight?

I freeze, my phone clutched in my palm. What the hell does this mean? Has he changed whatever the reason was that he didn’t want me there? Covered his tracks? Or has he simply accepted that I’m no longer a young girl hell bent on doing anything to please him and win his affections?

I hesitate before writing back.

Kate:

I’ve got it covered, thanks.

Three little dots appear, then disappear beside his name.

Finally, his response comes through.