Play Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) by Amber Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

butterflies. Still, Millie knew
some of it. Thankfully, Millie hadn’t sniffed out that details were
missing or Brooke might’ve had to lie to fill in the blanks.
    Brooke didn’t lie well. Made her twitchy.
    For whatever reason, she didn’t want Millie
to know the whole truth. Tonight though, maybe she’d spill it
anyway. Get some advice. About her grades, particularly. How could
she word it?
    Pulling into a parking spot outside mall
entrance five, Brooke felt lighter already. With her entourage of
confidence, Millie would know what to do. Millie could make a pair
of sweats look grateful just to be on her. She’d know exactly what
to say to end all this wasted energy thinking about, wondering
about, some guy who, belly flutters aside, didn’t have a shot in
the world with her.
    Or her with him.
    He probably didn’t even want one after the
way she’d left.
    Brooke locked her car, ignoring the defeat
that last part inspired. “There,” she said out loud. “Solved. Now,
get yourself together, go in, find Millie and have some fun.”
    Ten minutes later, Brooke stood blindfolded
and cursing herself for trusting Millie, somewhere in the vicinity
of the mall food court. Don’t peek? Brooke gritted out the promise.
Anything to get this over with. Not fun.
    Millie squeezed her hands. “Promise if you
hate anything, anything at all, you will tell me. Immediately.”
    Had to be a shopping spree. Conversations
past after a marathon of Pretty Woman and ice cream flurried in her
mind. “I promise.”
    “Promise me you will remain open-
minded.”
    Uncertainty quivered over Brooke’s shoulders.
Millie had far different taste from hers. What if she didn’t get to
pick the clothes? “I promise.”
    “Okay. Now, promise me you will, under no
circumstances, question why or how I am able to do this, and you
will accept what I am doing as a gift that is in no way intended as
an insult.”
    Insult? Um, okay. Maybe not a spree. Worse?
Visions of scissors and hair dye slashed in her head. Queasy dread
prickled her belly. “I promise?”
    Millie began bouncing, up and down. Blindfold
or not, six inches height difference were a recipe for a fall.
Luckily, before she yanked them both downward, Millie stopped.
    “Wait right here.”
    “Right here? Blindfolded?” Either Millie
didn’t hear her or was adding tortured silence to the surprise. For
both their sakes, it had better be the former.
    Scents of fried hot dogs and warm pizza
wafted to her nose. Her stomach growled above its unease. The whir
of shoppers milling around her amplified with every passing second.
Brooke rubbed her flaming cheeks. “No one’s looking,” she told
herself. “No one here knows you.” How embarrassing! “You never
promised not to get furious about being stranded for people to
point and laugh at you.”
    “Don’t worry,” a man’s voice said, warm
breath on her neck. “No one is laughing.”
    Brooke stiffened, forgetting how to breathe.
Did she know that voice? Was it Blue Eyes? Time seemed to suspend
along with her capacity to think straight. Her hands rushed to
uncover her eyes but Millie’s stopped them. “Hey! No peeking
remember?”
    “But, I—I.” She fought to peer out of the
blackness.
    “Nope. Uh-uh. Now, come along. There you go,
walk slowly.”
    “Who is that? Who’s with you?”
    “No one. Just me and you.”
    “Where did h—?” Did she know that voice? Or
were her collegiate insecurities coming back to nibble? Millie
certainly wouldn’t bring him, of all people. “Where did you go?
Who’s with you?”
    “No one and I’m not telling where. It’s just
us. Well, for now.”
    “Millie, where did you go?” Better yet, where
did he go?
    “Uh-uh. I can’t tell you. But, in about seven
more steps, you will see for yourself.”
    She didn’t want to take any more steps. The
odor of acrylic, the whiz of a blow dryer, closed her coffin. She
already knew. A makeover. And she had promised.
    Brooke repressed the groan