Page 82 of Movers and Fakers

Special Delivery

Aurora Driscoll

I wasn’t too worried about New York until I saw how nervous Hayes was every time it got brought up this week. Now, it’s the night before we’re set to leave, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s too late to cancel on account of being terrified.

“This is too much stuff for a quick trip,” I tell Saylor, frowning down at my open suitcase.

I told Saylor she could help me pack. She exclaimed that I “made her year” by asking her, but I don’t put much stock in that considering she says the same thing every time Jasmine lets her clean her room.

“You never know what you’re going to need,” Saylor replies as she folds the third set of pajamas to put in the bag. For one night.

“I know for a fact that I don’t need three pairs of pajamas,” I say dryly, and flop onto my bed next to where Marigold is lying on her stomach, reading a collection of Shakespeare’s plays.

“You need one cute pair in case Hayes wants to hang out, a backup cute set in case one gets dirty, and a cozy pair,” Saylor explains like it’s obvious.

“What if the cozy ones get dirty?” Marigold asks around the highlighter cap poking out of her mouth.

Saylor gasps. “How did I not think of that? We need another pair for sure.”

I grab one of my pillows and smack Marigold with it, sending the highlighter cap flying out of her mouth and onto the floor.

“Don’t encourage this nonsense,” I grouse.

Marigold just laughs and turns a page in her book.

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“It’s going to look like I’m moving to New York instead of visiting!”

“You’re going on a private jet. I think it’s okay if you look a little high-maintenance,” Marigold replies.

“It’s not high maintenance to be prepared for every situation,” Saylor corrects.

Jasmine walks in, balancing four bowls in her arms.

“Cobbler is ready!” she chirps, and begins to pass out bowls of warm apple-cinnamon cobbler.

Marigold and I sit up to take them. Jasmine plants herself in my vanity chair, while Saylor remains on the floor by the mountain of clothes in my suitcase.

“Even with all this, I’m not going to be prepared for tomorrow night.” I look down at my bowl. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet a billionaire.”

“It’s going to go great,” Jasmine encourages. “They’re going to love you.”

“Not to throw myself a pity party, but why would they? I don’t come from some fancy family with money. I’m a broke college student.”

“I’d hope they wouldn’t judge you based on finances alone,” Jasmine says with a frown.

“What if they think I’m only dating Hayes for his money?” My fears tumble out. “He’s paying me a hundred thousand dollars. If they find out about that and the timeline of our relationship, they’ll think that’s all I want.”

The girls stay quiet. I groan and shove a bite of cobbler into my mouth. It’s got to be bad if they can’t come up with anything.

“Maybe they won’t find out?” Saylor offers with a half grimace, half smile.

“It doesn’t help that Hayes is freaking out about going. He tries to cover it up, but I can tell how nervous he is, which makes me nervous because that must mean that either his parents are terrible, or they already don’t like me, or both.”

I suck in a breath. Saylor stares at me wide-eyed, spoon still in her mouth. Marigold watches with raised brows. Jasmine’s face is scrunched with concern.

“That may be the most words you’ve ever said at one time,” Saylor comments, awe in her voice.