Katie texted Caleb the second she was out of the hotel and down the street. She ran, almost tripping in the strappy heels Caleb had forced her to attempt walking in. It wasn’t easy, tottering about on four-inch spikes.
‘This is why I wear flats,’ Katie told herself, though she knew the real reason was her height. At 5 foot 10 she was already taller than a lot of the guys, and heels made her feel like a giant.
“I did it,” she texted.
“Good girl,” was his reply.
‘Good girl,’ Katie rolled her eyes. ‘He’s such a patronising little turd.’
She took off the shoes to walk back to her house. Caleb had told her to get a taxi, he would even pay for it, but Katie knew the way and didn’t like taking cabs. The awkward conversations, slow driving and weird smelling cars of past journe
