Wilder has an extra ticket to a party and invites his best friend Tristen to go with him. Tristen isn't quite thrilled but decides not to turn down his friend's offer.
'It's just a party. It's gonna be fun.' That's what Tristen thinks. Wilder, on th...
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Goddamnit. Wilder was so persuasive.
I should've known better than to argue with him when he had set his mind about going together to this party. That was an argument I never stood a chance to win. He even talked me into wearing the blue shirt, whereas he was satisfied with the purple one. I love blue, but wearing one of his clothes felt odd; they simply weren't my style.
"I don't like this. It's not me."
I caught the hem of the silk shirt and tried to take it off, but Wilder pulled my hands back down.
Damn! His grip was strong. Was he getting sturdier or was I getting weaker?
"Trust me, this party is different. You'll thank me later when we get there," he said just before he pushed me toward that full-length mirror in his room.
I checked myself in the mirror, despite my lack of enthusiasm. I was sure that I wouldn't like what he'd done to me. He was having so much fun with this makeover that I started to suspect something was terribly off. How did I even let him?
The moment my eyes fell on my reflection, I gasped.
I used to look boring with my plain dark hair and plain T-shirts. Now, my hair was shiny and slicked back, my brown doe eyes had black makeup on them, and that thick golden chain around my neck, God, I loved it so much.
I've got to hand it to him; when it comes to fashion, Wilder sure knowswhat he's doing.
I looked so badass. No one would ever believe that I was the same sad dude fifteen minutes ago.
How did he do it? What kind of sorcery is this?
I snapped back to Wilder who was crossing his arms, staring at me. He was so proud of his new masterpiece; I could tell by that dumb big grin on his face.
"Time to party till we drop."
Wilder was cocky enough to know that I wasn't going to say no to that. Plus, he always liked to finish with a catchy phrase.
An hour later, we were standing in front of a luxurious main entrance to one of the fanciest buildings in New York—Club Goldwin.
"Names and cards, please," said the massive guy guarding the door.
"Wilder Mackintosh," said Wilder as he handed the invitation card to the bouncer. "And this is my plus-one, Tristen Butterfield."
Wilder wrapped his arm around my shoulder and side-hugged me, earning a blush from the bouncer; he was a grown-ass man. What made him blush so easily?
Besides the shy glances, he gave us two black wrist bands that had the phrase "Wear It With Pride" printed on them in colorful glitter. Hmm. Where have I heard that before?
