Cut!

Take 11 - Little Black Dress - Part 1

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe love isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

“You only say that because you haven’t experienced it.”

I bit my lip. She could be right. I didn’t actually have anything to compare with.

“Oh, Cami,” she continued. “When you first experience it, you’ll see what I mean. It’s the most amazing thing in the world. It’s a rush, but without the nasty side-effects—trust me, I know.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just sound terribly confusing, really.”

“When you meet someone you really love, you won’t be in doubt.” Ludmilla sighed. “I thought I had that with Peyton, though.”

“It’s his loss, really.” I stood up and walked to the mirror in my room. “We’re a good catch, and he was too stupid to realize it, and now that he has, it’s too late.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Look, I got to go. It’s almost time for my therapy. I can’t be late, my therapist is crazily cute.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “Have fun, sis. I’ll be in touch.”

We hung up, and I threw my phone on the desk. It was a Saturday afternoon with absolutely nothing to do. Marcus were running some errands, and I had to promise to stay put until he was back. Apparently, he’d need all the time he could get to make me ready for the dinner party later.

Of course, I could always read a book. However, I doubted there would be enough time, and I’d hate to be forced to leave in the middle of a good story. Instead, I decided to grab my phone. Even if I couldn’t leave the hotel room, I could always pretend I had a social life simply by texting.

I jumped on my bed, making myself comfortable. Tapping my chin, I contemplated who to text. Only a few people had this number, and while I suppose I could always contact Jackie, I didn’t exactly think it’d be a good idea—plus overseas texts were expensive. Although Ludmilla paid for everything, I didn’t want to be blatantly robbed like that.

Instead, I sent a text to Harry:

‘What’s talent did the polar bear have?’

It didn’t take long for him to reply, and I hurried to see what he wrote:

‘I don’t know… Catching fish?’

Smirking to myself, I was happy he hadn’t caught on to my joke. I rolled over on my stomach and replied:

‘Nope. They’re excellent at breaking the ice :) Hi!’

I could almost imagine him shaking his head. My phone vibrated again.

‘That was such a bad joke—still laughed, though. Hey, can I call you?’

Almost immediately, I began to conduct a bunch of reasons he would want to call for. As my thoughts went on, my paranoia grew. Finally, realizing I needed to answer him, I typed:

‘Why? Do I take too long to answer?’

The reply came immediately.

‘It’s just really hard to text with one hand.’

As I read the text over and over, I tried to decipher if there was a hidden meaning behind the words. Was he tired? Was something wrong? I never actually texted a guy before.

My ringtone interrupted my thoughts, and in shock, I dropped the phone. Hurrying to grab it, I placed it against my ear.

“Hello?”