“Aubrey, this is serious.” My dad looked upset. “This has been a dream of mine for a very long time and we want to make sure that nothing stands in the way.”

The two of them exchanged glances and I raised my eyebrow.

“Nothing like what?” I asked.

“Okay...” My mother lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder before speaking. “We need to know if there any skeletons in your closet—any pictures on social media that make you look like a party girl, any ex boyfriends’ or sexual partners that you may have dealt with, or anything that would make us look like bad parents.”

“You are bad parents.”

“Stop it, Aubrey.” My father gripped my hand and squeezed it hard. “The two of us have given you everything you could’ve ever wanted growing up and all we’re asking for is a small sacrifice from you.”

“I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.” I gritted my teeth.

“Good.” My mother put on her fake smile. “Then, when you pull out of school for your senior year to help us on the trail, it won’t look suspicious. We’ve already spoken to your department chair about online classes and they are, in fact offered. For the ones that aren’t, you’ll have to show up to campus to take those, but they make special considerations for students with circumstances such as yours so—”

“No.” I cut her off. “No, thank you.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Aubrey. This is for the benefit of—”

“Dad’s dream, right?” I tried not to lose it. “Because he’s the only person in this family who has a dream?”

“Yes,” my mother said through her smiling teeth. “We’re talking about real dreams, Aubrey. Not no-chance-in-hell and failed ones.”

“Excuse me?!” I stood up. “You want to talk about failed dreams when the two of you have failed more than anyone I know at the expense of your own daughter?” There were tears in my eyes.

“Aubrey, sit back down.” She grabbed my hand. “Let’s not make a scene.”

“Let’s!” I snatched my hand away. “Let’s discuss how I’m twenty fucking two and I’m a junior in college when I should already be a graduate! Shall we? Can you explain why that is?”

My father’s face reddened and he motioned for me to sit down, but I stood my ground.

My mother clutched her pearls. “Aubrey...We did what was best at the time, and even though switching school systems twice in two years was unfortunate, it made you who you are today. Now, the campaign won’t start until—”

“I don’t care when the hell it starts. I’m not going on a pointless campaign trail, and I’m not taking any of my classes online because guess what?” I could feel my blood boiling. “You can’t learn fucking ballet online!”

The restaurant was suddenly silent.

“You two are beyond selfish and you don’t even know it.” I shook my head. “I’m voting for the other guy.” I stormed off amidst gasps and whispers from the other tables—slightly content that my parents’ picture perfect family had been publicly scratched a bit.

“Your number, Miss?” The valet said to me as I stepped outside.

“My what?”

“Your number?” He tilted his head to the side. “For your car?”

Shit... I sighed and looked over my shoulder.

Patrons were pointing in my direction and I couldn’t bear to go back in there just because I didn’t have a ride home.

I considered calling a cab, but I knew that was pointless. It would take forever to get here, and I could probably walk back to my apartment faster than they would arrive.

There was a bus stop a mile or so down, but I only had a credit card. I doubted Andrew would come get me, but I decided to give it a try.

Subject: A Ride.

I really need a favor...

—Aubrey

Subject: Re: A Ride

Wanting to take a ride on my cock in the middle of the day shouldn’t be considered a “favor” at this point.

—Andrew

Subject: Re: Re: A Ride

I’m not talking about your dick. I’m talking about your car...Would you be able to pick me up right now? I was at a dinner with my parents but it didn’t end well...and I don’t have my car.

If you can’t, I’ll understand.

—Aubrey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: A Ride

Where are you?

—Andrew

Half an hour later, he pulled into the country club’s driveway.

I slipped into his car before he could even park—not looking back at the snooty members who were probably whispering and wondering about what had happened between me and my parents.

“I’m taking you home, right?” he asked as he pulled off.

“No...”

He looked over at me. “Am I taking you to GBH?”

“If you want. Just not to my apartment.” I paused. “I’m sure my parents will stop by there after dinner and try to talk to me so...”

“Have you eaten?”

“Lost my appetite...” I said softly, then I smiled. “But if you’re interested in taking me on a date right now, I’m not opposed to that.”

“Why would I take you on a date?”

“Because you owe me one.”

“Since when?”

“You once said that you would take me out if we ever met in person, and you haven’t done it yet.”

We approached a stoplight and he turned to face me.

“If I was even vaguely interested in taking you out right now—which I’m not, where the hell would I take you if you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“Surprise me.” I shrugged and leaned against the glass—shutting my eyes. I could practically picture him staring at me, giving me that “You’re out of your damn mind” look, and as he steered the car back onto the street, I smiled—hoping that this would be the start of us going out regularly.

I was dreaming of him kissing me in the gallery room again when I felt him gently shaking my shoulder.

“Aubrey...” he whispered. “Aubrey, wake up.”

I lifted my head and looked outside my window. There were lush plants and a massive glass paned building—an executive condo. My heart skipped a beat because I knew he’d never taken a woman to his place before, and I was happy that I would be the first.

I looked over at him, ready to say something, but then I saw him fiddling with a green parking pass and I looked out the front window—seeing where we really were.

Outside of a Hilton hotel.

“Your idea of taking me on a date is bringing me to a hotel?”

“It’s more about fucking you in the hotel.”

“Andrew, this is where you take all your other dates...”

“And?”

My heart sank. “Do you not see why bringing me here would hurt my feelings?”

“Would you prefer the Marriott?”

I blinked.

“They don’t have the same standard of room service,” he said, “but if that’s what you prefer—”

“Just take me home—right now.” My voice cracked and I leaned against the window, shutting my eyes again. “I’ll deal with my parents...”

***

I woke up on a plush leather couch, tucked underneath a soft black blanket.

Sitting up, I saw that my shoes had been taken off and placed in a rack on the other side of the room. A tray of fresh fruit and chocolates were sitting on the small table in front of me, and there was a bottle of wine sitting next to two stemmed glasses.

The room looked as if it’d been plucked from a magazine: silk white draperies, taupe walls, and portraits framed in silver. One of those portraits was of a fucking hotel, making it clear exactly where I was.

I immediately tossed the blanket off—ready to find Andrew and yell at him for bringing me here against my wishes. I walked down the hallway, slowly noticing that the pictures hanging on the wall were of him.

In one picture, he was standing on a beach, looking off into the distance. In another he was standing in front of a NYC cab, and in another he was lying against a city park bench.

He was young in all of these photos—his eyes held a more boyish charm, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked happy. Extremely happy.