Chapter 1 Tessa #2
My knees give out. I sink onto the edge of the mattress, clutching the phone. My thumb flies to the screen. I press and hold on the photos, the little trash can icon popping up. Delete for Everyone.
My finger hovers over the button, trembling. Then I stop.
It’s too late. They’ve already seen it. They’ve already replied. If I delete it now, I just look guilty. It changes it from a “funny mistake” to a “dirty secret.” It makes it look like I care.
“Damn it,” I curse, dropping my hand.
I type frantically, my fingers slipping on the glass screen.
Me: WRONG CHAT! Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Ignore that!
I stare at the message for a second, waiting for a reply, for a “Lol no worries” or a “We didn’t see anything.”
Radio silence. Nothing.
They aren’t letting me off the hook.
I shove the phone into my clutch like it burned me, grab my keys, and bolt out the door.
My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest, and my hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the keys.
I have to drive. I have to focus. And I have to figure out how to survive the next few hours without dying of embarrassment.
By the time I pull up to Harper’s apartment building, I’ve checked my makeup in the rearview mirror a million times. I’m flushed, my eyes are bright, and I look exactly like a woman who just accidentally sexted three men.
“Pull it together, Hartley,” I mutter, gripping the steering wheel. “You are a Brand Strategist. Be professional.”
The passenger door flies open, and Harper throws herself into the seat, bringing a cloud of expensive body spray and chaos with her.
“Hey, bestie!” she beams, tossing her bag into the back. “I am so done with packing. If I see one more cardboard box, I’m going to scream.”
She looks at me and pauses. Her eyes narrow.
“Whoa. You look…” She rakes her eyes over the red slip. “Incredible. But also like you’re about to commit a felony. Are you okay? You’re vibrating.”
“Job nerves!” I blurt out, putting the car in drive a little too aggressively. “Just thinking about Monday. The pressure. It’s a lot.”
Harper laughs, a knowing little sound that I’m too panicked to parse. “Tess, you’re going to crush it. You’re the best there is. Trust me.”
I swallow hard. If only she knew. If only she knew the real reason I’m shaking is because I accidentally sexted her brothers.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Trust.”
I focus on the road, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to cramp my fingers. I can’t tell her. I absolutely cannot tell her. She’d die of laughter, and then she’d kill me. And then her brothers would know that she knows, and it would become a thing.
“So,” Harper says, scrolling through her phone. “Where are we going? You’ve been so secretive.”
“It’s a surprise,” I manage, my voice an octave higher than usual. “Just a new lounge I found called Velvet.”
The venue is perfect. It’s a sleek, dim lounge rented out for the night just for us. The windows are tinted, the lighting is low and sultry—perfect for hiding a blush, thank god.
We walk up to the doors. I can feel the music thrumming inside. My phone screen lights up through the mesh of my clutch, and I jump.
“You okay?” Harper asks, eyeing me.
“Fine! Never better.” I push the doors open. “SURPRISE!”
The roar hits us instantly. The room is packed with our friends from college, family, and everyone we know. Balloons float against the ceiling, and a banner reading GOOD LUCK HARPER is draped across the back wall.
Harper gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god! Tessa!”
She spins around and hugs me, practically tackling me. “You did this? You liar! You said we were going for drinks!”
“We are going for drinks,” I laugh, hugging her back, feeling the tension in my shoulders loosen just a fraction. “Just… with about fifty other people. We’ve been planning this for weeks. Me and your brothers.”
“My brothers?” Harper pulls back, tears in her eyes. “They helped? But they’re so busy.”
“Yeah,” I say, my smile faltering slightly as the memory of the group chat crashes back into my brain. “They were very involved. Especially with the… logistics.”
Harper squeals and turns to scan the room. “Where are they?”
I look over her shoulder. It takes me half a second to find them. The room is crowded, but they cut through the noise.
They’re standing near the bar, a wall of broad shoulders and expensive suits that make everyone else in the room look underdressed.
Owen is grinning, holding a beer, leaning back with that easy, dangerous charm. He spots me instantly, lifting his bottle in a mock salute, his eyes dropping to the red dress with a knowing smirk.
Asher is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are dark, tracking my movement like a hawk watching a field mouse and staring at the red dress like he’s already figured out how to get it off me.
And in the middle… Ethan.
He’s holding a tumbler of whiskey, his jaw set, looking furious and hungry all at once. His gaze drops to the red silk, tracing the low neckline, the cling of the fabric over my hips, the high slit. When his eyes snap back up to mine, the heat hits me like a physical blow from across the room.
My phone buzzes in my clutch again.
I’m in so much trouble.