Karma's POV 😈
The second I slid into the car, I exhaled like I'd just escaped a crime scene.
"Everything okay, miss?" Gretchen's driver glanced at me through the mirror.
"Peachy." I buckled my seatbelt and stared out the window. "Just bought half the store. Totally normal day. Nothing weird happened."
Which was a lie.
Because my heart was still beating too fast for a girl who'd just shopped for dresses.
I tilted my head slightly, just enough to catch one last glimpse of the store. He was still in there. Of course he was. Standing like he owned the ground he walked on, hands in his pockets, not even pretending to be part of the same world as everyone else.
What was his deal?
"Miss Karma?" the driver said.
"Hmm?"
"You want to head home now?"
I blinked. "Yeah. Home. Definitely."
But as the car pulled away, my fingers tightened around the shopping bag. I hated that he'd gotten to me. Hated that I could still feel his stare, like it had burned into the back of my neck.
Nope. Not thinking about him. I had bigger problems-like parents who'd kill me if they found out I ditched school. Or the fact that I was about to sneak out to a bar for the first time ever.
Yeah. That's what I needed to focus on.
Not some stranger with gray eyes and a face that looked like it was sculpted to ruin lives.
The ride wasn't long, but it felt longer with my brain refusing to shut up about a pair of gray eyes I didn't ask to meet.
We stopped in front of Gretchen's place-her ridiculously huge house with gates that looked like they belonged to a museum, not a home.
"You can go," I told her driver as I grabbed my bags. "I'll get my own driver from here."
He nodded politely. "Of course, Miss Karma. I'll inform Miss Gretchen you arrived safely."
"Thanks," I muttered. Not that I needed anyone telling anyone anything about my day. But whatever.
I walked up the driveway, pressed the code, and slipped through the gate. The moment I stepped inside, I was met with the delightful sight of Gretchen tangled up with her guy on the couch like they were auditioning for a very R-rated romcom. These two people were sucking face like oxygen was optional. It was a kiss so intense I was pretty sure they'd fused.
'Geez, Gretchen,' I muttered, dropping my keys a little louder than necessary. 'Can you at least pretend to get a room?'
She didn't even flinch. Just raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment while still lip-locked.
Rolling my eyes, I slipped back out to meet my own driver-loyal, nosy, and way too eager to report everything to my parents.
Perfect. Show time.
I plastered on the fakest smile I had and greeted my driver like I'd just come out of school like a good little daughter. "You're late," I said flatly, tossing my bags into the car. "Let's go."
He frowned. "Miss, I-"
"Less talking, more driving." I slid into the back seat before he could ask questions. "Home. Now."
And just like that, I was back under the watchful eyes of my own security. The switch worked, but barely. One wrong word from him to my parents, and I'd be dead.
I leaned against the window, pretending to scroll through my phone while my reflection stared back at me.
Still those damn eyes.
I groaned under my breath. "Great. Mystery guy with an ego problem is living rent-free in my head. Fantastic."
~♥~
Later, at home...
Gretchen's texts started the second I opened the front door.
Gretchie 👑:
Sooo... tell me why you left looking like a devil and came back with a bubblegum princess dress?
I stared at the screen.
Me:
Desperation. Long story. Shut up.
Gretchie 👑:
It's giving he looked at me and I panicked
💅👀💅👀💅
I growled at the screen like it had personally betrayed me.
Me:
It's giving shut your expensive face.
My phone pinged again instantly.
Gretchie 👑:
I KNEW IT. WHO IS HE?
I dropped onto my bed, arms flopping dramatically to the side. She knew me too well. And I hated that she was right.
I tossed the pink dress onto my door and glared at it like it had betrayed me. I hadn't even meant to pick that color. I was going for black. Always black. But he looked at me, and suddenly my brain short-circuited and I grabbed the first thing closest to the exit.
Which happened to be baby pink.
Disgusting.
I buried my face into my pillow and screamed.
My phone buzzed.
GRETCHEN:
Don't forget the bar tomorrow night. Wear that dress. 😏
I stared at the message, confused. Then I remembered she talked about a bubble gum dress.
ME:
What dress?
Wait. That dress???...
Gretchen I never showed you the dress.
Three dots bubbled.
GRETCHEN:
I know 😌
My driver told me everything
Said you were glaring at it like it murdered your childhood dog 💀💀💀
I stared blankly at the screen, my fingers pausing mid-response.
ME:
Your driver???
Why is he narrating my breakdowns??
GRETCHEN:
Because he's my partner in crime.
He said, and I quote:
"Miss Karma was locked in a staring contest with the pink dress, and the dress was losing."
I'm obsessed.
I let my phone fall onto my bed and covered my face.
Of course.
Of course Gretchen had a driver who doubled as an undercover informant-slash-best friend. Meanwhile, mine wouldn't even let me play music above volume 4 without threatening to call my mother.
ME:
Why does your driver feel like an accomplice and mine feels like a federal agent?
GRETCHEN:
That's your fault for hiring Batman
Mine? He's got loyalty and tea
He gets me.
And I like it 😌💅
I snorted and curled deeper into the bed. That pink dress was still hanging in its bag by the door, quietly mocking me.
It shouldn't have mattered. He shouldn't have mattered. I didn't even know his name. But every time I blinked, I saw those damn eyes.
Cool. Controlled.
And somehow... interested?
I shook my head and texted back.
ME:
Your driver's a gossip.
Mine's a snitch.
This friendship feels very unbalanced.
GRETCHEN:
And that's why mine is staying.
Loyalty.
Surveillance.
Drama.
The holy trinity 😌
I groaned and tossed my phone aside.
Tomorrow night better have good cocktails.
~♥~
I got up walked to the door got the dress off and chucked the dress onto the chair. It could sit there and think about what it did.
Tomorrow. That's when I'd deal with it. The outfit, the bar, the whole act.
I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
He probably didn't even notice me.
And even if he did-who cared?
I didn't.
Definitely didn't.
...Right.