Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Skye
My stomach does somersaults as Harper puts the finishing touches on my hair, the ceramic wand sending tendrils of heat against my neck.
The fruity scent of her hair products fills the bathroom, mingling with the steam from the shower I took earlier, creating a warm cocoon that should be comforting but does nothing to settle my frantic nerves.
I focus on breathing it in—vanilla and something tropical—trying to ground myself in the familiar ritual of getting ready with my best friend instead of spiraling into panic about what I've agreed to do.
"So where are you meeting him again?" Harper asks, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration as she wraps another strand around the curling wand.
Her fingers work with practiced precision, so different from my own fumbling attempts at styling my hair.
She's always been the polished one between us.
"Bellini's—that fancy Italian restaurant in Pittsburgh.
" I fidget with the sleeve of my robe, rubbing the soft terrycloth between my fingers like a worry stone.
The fabric is worn thin in places from years of use.
"I listed Pittsburgh as my city since it's the closest big city to us.
I don't want him knowing the exact town I live in if it goes bad.
" My mind conjures up a dozen nightmare scenarios, each worse than the last—him following me home, showing up at my door, telling everyone what I do online.
Harper nods, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. The light green of her irises looks almost yellow under the bathroom lights, fierce and protective. "Makes sense. So you're driving there and back tonight? That's four hours round trip."
"Yep." I try to sound casual, but the thought of that long drive home alone after what will certainly be the most nerve-wracking dinner of my life makes my stomach clench.
Two hours of replaying every awkward moment, every mistake, with nothing but darkness and empty highway stretching before me.
Plus, being exhausted while driving at night isn't exactly safe.
God, I haven't thought this through at all, have I?
"I have a better idea." Her lips curve into that smile I know so well—the one that means she's about to improve my life whether I think I need it or not.
It's the same smile she had when she convinced me to try camming in the first place, reassuring me that the red wig and makeup would make me unrecognizable.
"What?" I ask, turning my head slightly before she gently nudges it back into position with warm fingers against my cheek.
"What if I go with you?" She releases a perfect wave and reaches for another section of hair, her movements confident and smooth.
"I can get us a hotel room so we can stay the night.
When you get back from dinner, we can watch a movie, order room service, make it a whole girls' trip.
" She meets my eyes in the mirror again, her expression turning more serious, the playful sparkle hardening into something protective.
"Plus, I'll be there if anything goes wrong. "
Relief floods through me, so powerful I almost feel dizzy with it, like standing up too quickly after lying down.
The knot of tension in my chest loosens just enough to let me breathe properly for the first time today.
"I would love that." I stand up, careful not to disturb the half-finished waves cascading over my shoulders.
Harper bounces up and down, clapping her hands, her hair bouncing around her freckled face. "This is so exciting! It's like being in a movie—my best friend meeting a mysterious millionaire while I wait in the wings as backup!"
I try to mirror her enthusiasm, but all I feel is sick with nerves, like I might throw up the toast I'd managed to choke down this morning.
I wish I could capture even a fraction of her excitement, her confidence that everything will work out perfectly.
But having her come with me does make everything feel less terrifying, like adding a safety net beneath a high wire.
At least I won't be completely alone in a strange city with a man I've never met, a man who's possibly seen me do things I can barely admit to myself.
"Okay, what are you wearing?" She's already moving toward my closet, all business now.
"I don't know." I bite my lip until I taste the waxy flavor of my lip balm, watching her rifle through my clothes with a critical eye.
"I want to dress nice, but I still want to be me, you know?
Not like I'm trying to be someone I'm not.
" Not like my cam persona with her confident swagger and flirtatious banter—someone as far from the real me as possible.
"Of course." She turns to face me, her expression softening into something tender and genuine. "You're fucking amazing, Skye. He should see the real you—just a slightly elevated version. The you that I get to see all the time."
She disappears into my closet and emerges with her arms full of options, laying several dresses across my bed like an artist arranging her palette.
I sift through them, considering each one before picking up a deep burgundy slip dress I'd almost forgotten I owned, buried beneath more practical everyday clothes.
"What about this one?" I hold it against me, looking down at how the silky fabric falls against my skin, clinging to the curves.
"Yes!" Harper's eyes light up like I've discovered buried treasure.
"That color is perfect with your skin tone, and the cut is so flattering.
And you could pair it with your chunky Mary janes—totally your style and sexy at the same time.
Like, yes I'm sophisticated enough for this fancy restaurant, but I'm still an artist with my own aesthetic. "
I smile, the first genuine smile I've managed all day, maybe all week. Leave it to Harper to find the perfect balance—something that makes me feel confident but still like myself.
"Do you think he'll like it?" I ask, immediately hating how insecure I sound, how much I still need approval despite all my attempts at independence.
Harper takes the dress from my hands and holds it up to the light, examining the way it catches and reflects the warm glow from my bedside lamp. "He'll love it. But more importantly, do you like it? Will you feel good in it?"
I nod, running my fingers along the cool fabric, appreciating how it slips and slides like water against my skin. "I do. It makes me feel pretty but not like I'm trying too hard."
"That's all that matters." She hands the dress back to me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder. "Plus, it shows off your ass, which is criminally underappreciated and frankly one of your best features along with your eyes."
I laugh, some of the tension finally leaving my shoulders, releasing muscles I didn't even realize were clenched tight. "I guess I should be grateful someone's willing to pay a million dollars to appreciate it. That's got to be some kind of validation, right?"
"That's the spirit." Harper grins, returning to the bathroom to grab her curling wand and the array of products scattered across the counter. "Now let's get you dressed, and hit the road."
As I follow her back to the bathroom, I'm still terrified about what's coming—dinner with a stranger who knows my most intimate secret—but having Harper by my side makes it feel possible, like I might actually survive this insane situation I've gotten myself into.
Whatever happens tonight, whether it's amazing or a complete disaster, I won't be facing it alone. And that makes all the difference.
Harper managed to make me forget about everything for the last hour and a half while she drove us to Pittsburgh.
We blasted my favorite 90s jams all the way there, belting out the lyrics to classics, our voices bouncing off the car windows and drowning out my anxiety with each mile we covered.
One minute we were rapping every word to Salt-N-Pepa's "Shoop" with surprising accuracy, the next she was matching me note for note on No Doubt's "Don't Speak.
" Something about screaming along to music with your best friend makes even the most terrifying situations seem manageable—the way Pearl Jam's angst and Nirvana's raw emotion somehow became the perfect soundtrack to my internal chaos.
But now we're getting close. The Pittsburgh skyline appears through the windshield, buildings stretching toward the darkening sky like jagged teeth against the twilight, and the nerves come rushing back full force.
My stomach tightens into a hard knot as I reach forward and turn the radio down, my fingers trembling slightly.
The sudden quiet feels heavy, oppressive, leaving too much space for my thoughts to spiral.
"Okay, we can check into the hotel. It's just down the block from Bellini's, and you can leave for dinner from there.
" Harper glances over at me, her eyes flicking between me and the road, that protective look I've known since sixth grade settling on her face.
"I'll even walk you if you want me to. Like your personal bodyguard—I could wear sunglasses and pretend to talk into my sleeve. "
I shake my head, trying to look more confident than I feel, forcing my lips into what I hope resembles a smile.
"That's okay, I can walk. The fresh air might help anyway.
" Maybe the cool evening air will clear my head, stop the spinning thoughts, the endless what-ifs that have been multiplying since I first agreed to this insane arrangement.
Maybe oxygen will remind my lungs how to function properly.
Ten minutes later we're parking in the garage at the hotel and taking our overnight bags in, the fluorescent lights casting strange shadows across Harper's determined face.
Once we're checked in, we playfully fight over the bathroom like we've done a thousand times since middle school, her shoving me with her hip while I block the doorway with my arm, the familiar ritual settling my nerves slightly.
After a quick pee, I check myself in the mirror one last time before I leave.
The burgundy dress clings to my curves in all the right places, the fabric soft against my skin, and Harper's styling has left my hair falling in soft waves around my shoulders.
The girl staring back at me looks like myself, just... more. Someone braver than I feel.
Harper comes up behind me and hugs me, her chin resting on my shoulder as we stare at our reflection.
Her bright red hair contrasts with my light brown waves, like fire against earth, her confidence radiating even in this simple gesture.
The freckles scattered across her face seem to dance when she smiles.
"You got this, girl. It's just a meet up—you either like him or you don't, and you can come right back if you don't." Her arms tighten around my waist, grounding me, the scent of her vanilla perfume wrapping around me like a familiar blanket.
I lean my head to the side, resting against hers, drawing strength from her unwavering support, from years of friendship that's weathered every storm. "Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for how grateful I feel to have her here, now, when everything feels like it's spinning out of control.
"I have a feeling about this guy though," she says, pulling away with a mysterious smile playing on her lips, that look she gets when she thinks she knows something I don't.
"Uhuh." I grab my purse and walk to the door, my heart pounding harder with each step. My hand pauses on the doorknob, cool metal beneath my fingertips. "Okay, here we go," I say, taking a deep breath that does little to calm the butterfly migration happening in my stomach.
"Call if you need me. I'll be there in two seconds to feed him his balls," Harper says, her face fierce despite the playful tone, green eyes flashing with protective fire.
I laugh as I walk out the door, the sound surprising even me, bubbling up from somewhere beneath the fear.
Leave it to Harper to make me laugh when I'm about to face my greatest fear—meeting a man who may have seen every inch of me, who knows secrets about me that no one else does.
A man who wants to pay me a million dollars to be his virgin, to take the one thing I've never given anyone else.
The hotel door clicks shut behind me, and I'm on my way. Alone now, but somehow still carrying Harper's confidence with me like a shield against whatever—or whoever—awaits me at Bellini's.