The Wrong Path

01 | spur of the moment

Sophia arched an eyebrow. "You never drink."

"I never wear short dresses, either," Ophelia pointed out. "And yet." She downed the glass of champagne, reaching for another. "Remind me: why are we here again?"

"For my career."

"Gross."

"And for Nick," Sophia added, and Ophelia wrinkled her nose.

"I hate him," Ophelia muttered half-heartedly. "I mean, I like him, but I hate him."

Sophia elbowed her cousin. Across the room, the man in question was deep in conversation with a woman wearing an outrageously orange feathered hat. Nick caught Sophia's eye and grinned, giving her a little wave. She raised her drink in a silent salute. Nick was the chemist that designed the Estrella perfume, and a "friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend" (there were a lot of those, in Sophia's line of business).

He was also, Sophia suspected, one of the main reasons Estrella had reached out to offer her a contract with them. They need an influencer, and she needed to pay her rent. Everyone was happy.

"You see?" Sophia said. "We're supporting him."

"You're supporting him," Ophelia corrected her, taking another healthy swig of champagne. "With your two million Instagram followers."

"It's only 1.9."

Ophelia gave her an exasperated look. "Does it matter?"

"Considering it pays my bills, yes."

Actually, Sophia wasn't making any money off of tonight's event — that came later — but she wasn't about to admit that to Ophelia. Her cousin was already eyeing the nearest exit like a hungry toddler ogling an ice cream stand.

Sophia took a sip of her martini. Nick was now wiggling towards the bar, desperately trying to evade the clutches of the woman in the monstrous orange hat. She watched, amused, as he ducked behind a potted plant, which did nothing to conceal his tall frame.

"He's kind of cute, actually," Sophia mused. "In a hot scientist sort of way. Clark Kent meets Albert Einstein."

Ophelia looked exasperated. "Since when do you mix business and fun?"

"Not for me," Sophia said, rolling her eyes. "For you." She bumped Ophelia's hip. "Anyways, I already have someone."

"I thought you didn't like Mitt."

"Kit," Sophia said pointedly, "is a very nice man."

"He's really not," Ophelia said.

"He's very sweet once you get to know him."

"I doubt that."

"Well," Sophia said, "you can see for yourself. Because I invited him tonight."

For a moment, Ophelia stared at her. Then she flagged down a waiter, plucking another two glasses of champagne off the tray. Sophia watched, dumbstruck, as her cousin took a long slug, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"I hate you," Ophelia announced. "I really do."

"Fi..."

"You're the worst."

"This way you can get to know him," Sophia argued, reaching for Ophelia's second glass of champagne, and her cousin lurched backwards.

"Oh no!" Ophelia waggled her finger. "It's not for you."

Unfortunately, Ophelia's stern tone was ruined by the fact that her words came out more like "s'not fer oo." Even Ophelia's red hair was escaping from its sleek chignon, curling around her flushed face. Sophia's lips quirked.