Sunday evening, Ellie explodes back into the apartment like she's running late for war.
"Change your clothes," she announces through Mia's half-open door, already tearing through her own wardrobe. "The Blade has a dress code and we are not showing up looking like grad students."
Mia opens her closet. She reaches for a camel turtleneck and dark jeans, which is when Ellie appears in the doorway, takes one look, and physically blocks her hand.
"Absolutely not." She disappears and returns thirty seconds later holding a forest-green velvet dress. "Christmas party, last year. I never wear anything twice—it's yours tonight."
The fabric is cool and smooth in Mia's hands. Fitted bodice, elegant square neckline, an open-back panel.
"Ellie, it's a bar visit, not a gala—"
"Trust me." Ellie is al
