Invitation Only (Private 2) - Page 72

I had a feel­ing that one more mo­ment's hes­ita­tion would push her over the edge, and as of now I was get­ting off rel­ative­ly easy. So I took the dress and left, just hop­ing that some­how, some way, all of this would just work it­self out.

210

WEIRD­NESS

An hour and a half lat­er, as the Am­trak train zipped through ru­ral and sub­ur­ban towns, blur­ring by trees and steeples and schools and parks, I un­der­stood what Noelle had meant when she said they hadn't de­cid­ed what they were wear­ing yet. It meant that all the Eas­ton girls who were go­ing were gath­ered in the back of the train car, slip­ping in and out of gowns, pass­ing them around, try­ing them on, gig­gling and flash­ing their skimpy un­der­wear for all the men to see. They did this while I sat alone in a dou­ble seat in my gold dress, my Lega­cy neck­lace se­cure­ly fas­tened, avoid­ing Natasha for dear life, won­der­ing how I had ev­er got­ten here.

'Yeah, ba­by! Take it off!" Gage shout­ed to­ward the back of the car, whoop­ing it up with Dash. A silk thong came fly­ing over and hit him in the face, ac­com­pa­nied by a round of girl­ish laugh­ter. Dash passed Gage a flask of liquor as Gage pock­et­ed the lin­gerie. He took a swig of vod­ka, nev­er tak­ing his las­civ­ious eyes off the show.

“And you didn't want to take the train,” he said to Dash mock­ing­ly.

211

Dash smirked. “I can ad­mit when I'm wrong.”

“Don't feel like play­ing dress-?up?”

I looked up to find Josh stand­ing in the aisle, one hand on the back of my seat, one hand on the back of the seat in front of me. He looked adorable in his black tuxe­do, his curls as un­ruly as ev­er.

“I'm fine with what I have,” I said, lift­ing the gold mask from my lap by its gold han­dle. I had changed in­to my gown in the tiny square of a bath­room the mo­ment I board­ed the train and I wasn't tak­ing it off for any­thing. Nev­er in my life had I even imag­ined wear­ing any­thing this di­vine.

“Good. I'm fine with it, too,” he said. I smiled and felt my­self blush. “May I?”

“Sure.”

I was all too hap­py to have Josh sit with me. It would pre­vent Whit­tak­er from tak­ing the seat when he was done de­bat­ing the lat­est Supreme Court de­ba­cle with the oth­er guys from his floor. The ones who had ei­ther seen all the naked girls they need­ed to see or who didn't swing that way.

“So, you don't get a plus-?one?” I asked as he set­tled in.

“Nope. I'm lucky I'm even here,” he said with a shrug. “I'm third gen­er­ation. Just made the cut.”

“Ah.”

“But look at you! You bagged one of the few plus-?ones in the en­tire school. You must be so proud,” he teased. “Not that I'm sur­prised.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, not sure if I should be of­fend­ed.

212

“Just that of all the girls in school I'm not sur­prised Whit­tak­er picked you,” he said.

I flushed with plea­sure. So not of­fend­ed.

“I don't even know if I'd bring some­one if I had a plus-?one,” Josh said. “Un­less I found some­one tru­ly wor­thy, I'd still go stag. That's just how I roll.”

I laughed and shook my head. “The girls at school would eat you alive.”

“So be it,” he said. “So, how are you, Reed Bren­nan?”

I took a deep breath. “Fine. I'm fine.”

“Con­vinc­ing,” he said with a face­tious nod. “Keep say­ing that and even you might start to be­lieve it.”

I smiled sad­ly, snagged. “Do you re­al­ly think Thomas is go­ing to be at this thing?”

Josh faced for­ward and blew out a sigh, puff­ing his cheeks out mo­men­tar­ily. He picked at a slit in the back of the seat in front of him. “I hope so. So I can kick his ass.”

I looked at him quizzi­cal­ly.

Tags: Kate Brian Private
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