The mall was a sensory overload of glitter, perfume, and people who thought leggings counted as pants.
Maya looped her arm through mine as we strutted through the entrance like we owned the damn place. “Tell me the plan,” she said. “Because right now you’re giving off ‘chaotic main character’ energy and I’m so here for it.”
I adjusted my bag—the one that now held Dario’s very real, very elite black card. He’d left it sitting on the counter that morning like an offering. Or maybe a mistake.
I smiled. “The plan? We buy things I don’t need. With money that’s not mine. While pretending my life isn’t an absolute spiral.”
She whistled. “Someone woke up and chose petty.”
I stopped and gave her a look. “Petty is an art. This is performance.”
“Damn. Should I be worried for this mysterious man
