Layla
It’s a mistake.
Of course it’s a mistake. What I should do is gather my things, bid everyone goodbye, and go home to
my bed. Tomorrow, I’ll finish the clean-up for the party, go check on Dani, pick up my paycheck, and put
Leif out of my mind. Forever.
But my bed is across the river and it’ll take me over an hour to get back. I’ve worked every day this
week while hardly getting more than three hours of sle ep per night. The party was a success and the day
ended in suspense. I’m worried about Dani, I’m happy about the party, and I feel so strung out I know I
won’t be able to sle ep despite my exhaustion.
I deserve a drink. Even if I end up falling asle ep on my feet, but at least this way I’ll get a ride home
in Leif’s nice car, with heated leather seats and soft music. Much better than the subway.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway. That’s how I let myself run headlong into trouble. Big, blond,
Leif-shaped trouble.