“So he’s amazing? We’ve already established that,” Kathleen drawled from her spot on the bed, a chilled glass of white wine resting casually in her hand. “The question is, when are you gonna sleep with him?” She raised her darkened eyebrows—the ones she had tinted now and then to make it look like she actually had any. Being a blonde was apparently its own hardship.
“I’m not just going to sleep with him,” I replied, rifling through my clothes, hoping to find something suitable for our karaoke night. Kat had insisted we meet at my place, where she could, as she put it, drink her weight in "heavenly" white wine before we left. I was fairly certain it had less to do with the wine and more to do with the three young billionaires due to arrive in the penthouse any minute.
“Why not?” she asked
