Page 11 of Electric Blue Love

“Hi,” her breathy voice came through after the second ring.

“Are you all right?” We were pulling up to the airport and I cupped my free hand over the mic on my phone and instructed the taxi to the right airline stop.

“I’m sorry to bother you again.”

“Are you all right?” I asked again. I wanted to see her face, her surroundings, to get an idea of what the problem was.

“Yes. It’s just he asked me to hang out tonight. I mean it’s a bunch of people – a small party, but he askedmeto come,” she said in a rushed whisper.

Words stuck in my throat. I wasn’t nearly as shocked by her news as I was disappointed that this douchebag had her so excited with an invite to a party. He really didn’t deserve her.

“Court? Are you there?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just getting to the airport. That’s fantastic. Congratulations 8B, you got exactly wat you wanted. Looks like you didn’t need my advice after all.”

“You’re leaving already?” the panic in her voice was more pronounced.

“Yeah, it was just a one-day trip.”

“But I need you.”

The thought of her needing me loosened a smile. “Finally decided Tom was a schmuck and decided to go for someone a little older and way better looking?”

“Be serious,” she screeched. “What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t understand the problem. I thought this is what you wanted?”

“It is, but –”

“But?” I prompted.

“What if I screw it up?”

“You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he wasn’t interested. Men are straightforward that way.”

“It’s just… I don’t know how to just go hang. What do I wear? Do I show up on time or be fashionably late? Should I bring a friend with me?”

The exasperation and candor in her voice was authentic and charming. Todd had better not be fucking with her. I’d track his pretentious ass down if he hurt her. I didn’t make a habit of getting myself emotionally involved with people like this, so to say I had no clue where these protective thoughts were coming from was an understatement.

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Too late,” she muttered.

Adjusting my tie, I checked my watch before I asked, “What time did he tell you to show up?”

“Nine.”

“Seven hours is plenty of time,” I reassured her and shook my head. Anything was possible in seven hours. “Show me the options.”

“I was planning on wearing jeans. I think it’ll be pretty casual.”

“Show me,” I instructed.

“Like you want me to snap a picture of my jeans?”

“I want you to send me a picture of youinthe jeans.”

“Oh, okay. Hold on,” she said.