When she uncovers his plan to lead an entirely uneventful life, Mia Evian is determined to teach Preston Maddox how to stop living like a ghost, but Mia and Preston have history, tension, and a lot of complicated feelings.
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I've never been champagne drunk, what with me not being a millionaire, and it's an experience like no other. I'm floating—no, flying—and the world is sparkling. There's a golden hue washed over every person, every thing, every feeling. I keep telling people this, but they don't seem to be listening.
'Nick agrees, don't you, Nick?' I say into the sky.
Nick, who's not in the sky but is strolling alongside me, laughs. We've just left the club and are making our way to London Bridge station.
'I honestly have no idea what you're on about,' he says through a chuckle.
'It's gold!' I stress, then shoot my arms out in front of me as if trying to embrace the world.
'I'd suggest copper, perhaps. Not gold,' Preston interjects.
'Ha! See! Preston gets it!'
'Oh, God,' Joe slurs from behind me. 'That's when you know something makes no sense.'
I stop in my tracks, then twirl around to point at Joe—or am I doing finger guns? I glance down at my hands. Finger guns!
'You're not wrong, Joe. You're not wrong.'
Everyone's laughing now, not just Nick, and damn, I had no idea I was so funny. I lag behind the rest of our group with Nick, whose hand is in mine, but I don't remember holding it. He's still laughing, and it's a nice laugh; deep, full, and smooth like caramel.
'Your friends are cool,' he comments, flashing his dimple as he smiles. 'I'm not even mad our one-to-one date turned into a group thing.'
'I have fantastic taste,' I beam. 'Who's your favourite?'
'Of your friends?' he asks and I nod. Then nod again. 'I wouldn't dare.'
'Wrong!' I call into the sky. 'Try again. No neutral ground allowed.'
'I honestly don't know! I've only—'
'Wrong!'
'I'm just saying I've only met them tonight, so need more time to—'
'Wrong!'
He's laughing again, practically laughing his guts out as I skip alongside him. Margot keeps flashing me backwards glances, and she's laughing too. Everyone's laughing; it's brilliant.
'Fine! Okay, okay...' Nick pauses, then turns to look down at me. 'Preston, I guess. Yeah, Preston.'
'Called it!'
Nick's polite enough not to point out that I didn't actually predict his answer once, at least not verbally.
'He's everyone's favourite,' I explain, 'and it's funny because he really tries not to be.'
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