“Come on, it’ll be fun.” I reach my foot out and point my toes along the top of my keyboard, searching for the mute button to turn the sound back on.

“I’m not twenty-one.”

“It’s fine. I know the bouncer.” I finally manage to click the button with my toe and hang up the phone, throwing my head back and moaning in the process. “Yes, fuck my toes. Fuck them!”

Since the majority of my body—and my face—is out of frame, I continue to carry on with the vocal cries of ecstasy as I shoot Cece a quick text: Sorry. Lost service. Meet me at nine tomorrow night.

6

Somebody somewhere did something right. Uber has become my knight in shining armor as of late. They have changed the world for the better, and I’ll be the first in line to toss them a fucking Nobel Peace Prize.

I scoot out of the backseat of a Honda Civic and wave my Uber driver goodbye as he pulls out into a thickening clusterfuck of nighttime traffic. I paid twelve dollars to arrive in fashion, as opposed to the thirty to forty dollars it would have cost to hail a filthy cab.

When I grow up, I want to be an Uber driver. That’d be a great book if anyone was willing to write it. I had Adam—my cute and flirty driver—drop me off two blocks from Gatsby’s.

A soldier preparing himself to go to war.

A football player streaking grease paint across his cheeks.

A Catholic priest zipping up his slacks before facing his congregation.

And then me, needing two blocks to prepare myself for my very own special version of war. Distraction is one of the greatest weapons in any arsenal. Distraction is a powerful tool, and Cece is going to be one hell of a distraction for Brick.

Like a game of chess, moving each piece into careful place is a daunting task. I need to figure out a way to convince Cece to fall for Brick, so I must first figure out what makes this good girl tick.

I take in the sights around me, and I’ll never fail to be mesmerized by the dazzling lights. I’ve never been to New York City, but I imagine this is exactly what it looks like, albeit on a smaller scale.

I was born in a trailer, and then raised in another. The life I live remains an illusion to everybody that used to know me. I separated from that world a long time ago, with no intention of ever going back. There’s nothing for me in Small Town, North Carolina. There never was.

I know things now that I didn’t know then. I’m stronger than anyone back home ever could have predicted, even if it’s all a façade. A beautiful charade of which I have no other option than to continue hiding behind. I’m not begging for understanding or empathy, I know exactly who—and what—I am. But like a house of cards built of nothing but face cards, I know the Queen will always rest atop the throne. And I know as soon as my reign is over, I’ll become a nobody again—just another useless two of hearts.

I have no intention of ever losing my crown.

I hold my sparkling, silver clutch tight against my hip as I make my way down the crowded street. My matching silver dress shimmers under the green neon lights of a flashing billboard. My heels click along the sidewalk as I weave my way around an entourage of suits and gowns.

“Apple?” I hear someone yell my name from the opposite side of the four way street. I shift my attention and see Jensen—of all fucking people—waving me down. He checks both ways before rushing across the street, barely outrunning the red light. “Hey,” he says with a quick gasp for air.

“Hey.” I take a mental picture of him, because he looks so different. He wears nothing but a white tee and black basketball shorts. There’s a visible line pressed from the inside of his shorts, a clear sign he’s not wearing underwear. There’s a black gym bag slung over his broad shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”

“Heading home from the gym.” He stuffs one hand into the silk pocket of his shorts.

“Oh, you live downtown?”

“Right down the street, at the Apex,” he says as he points to a high-rise condo that’s situated about ten blocks away from here, and eight blocks away from Gatsby’s. It’s a condo I’m all too familiar with, as it’s the same building Brick calls home.

“Nice. I hear those apartments have great views of the entire city.”

“Beautiful views, especially during sunset. You should see it sometime.” I chuckle and his free hand travels to the base of his skull, massaging nervously through his mocha-tinted hair. “Not that I’m inviting you back to my place or anything, especially at such a late hour where you’re able to see the sunset.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Anyway, you look beautiful tonight.” He gestures with his hand, followed by a knowing look of regret. “I can’t stop putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Do you always act this impulsively after leaving the gym?”

“I think I just have a bad habit in general of saying what’s on my mind.”

“Have you met me? I can’t believe the shit that comes out of my mouth half the time.”

“Yeah, me either,” he says with a knowing wink. “You’re one of a kind.”

Two of a kind. Brick and I. “That’s what everyone says, but I still haven’t decided if it’s a good thing or not.”

“Oh,” he says through a mischievous grin, “it’s a terrible thing.”

“If I wasn’t counting on you to graduate, I’d kick your ass.”

“Oh. I would love that.” His cheeks flush red. “I’m going to stop talking...”

“Okay, but before you do—“

“Do I have any news on what we talked about?”

“How did you know that’s what I was going to say?”

“Because I can read you like an open book. You’re easy.” His fingers roll into his palm and he shakes his fist.

“I’m easy, huh?” I arch my brow and move toward him. “You know this how?”

“I have a way with words tonight.” He swallows a visible gulp as I inch closer and look him straight in the eyes.

“I’m prone to agree.”

“Anyway,” he says nervously and takes a measured step back. “I was going to tell you at the next meeting, but I got it approved through the dean. You now have an ‘A’ on your transcript for History 112.”

I’m taken aback and flip my head. “I haven’t even started working yet.”

“We were already past the deadline, and the longest extension I could get was for next Monday.” He crosses his arms, creating a tangible barrier between our bodies. “So, you’ll be working on the honor system.”

“That’s trusting of you.”

“You seem to be a lot of things, Apple. But I don’t imagine you’re one to break promises.”

He has a point there, thus the reason the word promise almost never escapes my lips. “While we’re on the subject of honor, I’m going to come out and say it. I’m not going to anymore of those meetings.”

“Shocker.” He’s back to being playful and I can’t help but notice a scientific pattern. The closer he stands to me, the more guarded he is. But when he pulls back, and the gap between us widens, he’s freer with his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask with faux shock.

“It means I know you don’t belong there.” He shrugs and takes a quick look at something in the distance, anything that’s a quick distraction from the realness of this conversation. “Hell, I don’t even belong there.”

“You mean you’re not the shining beacon of all that’s holy?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re sparking my curiosity.”

“Why don’t you meet me after my morning class tomorrow and maybe you can spark mine.”

“I like the way that sounds.”

“Don’t read too much into it.” He turns to walk away, bringing an abrupt end to the conversation. He’s leaving behind a trail of mystery and he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Or do,” he says with a sly smile as he cranes his head to meet my eyes. “Whichever.”