Free My Favorite Mistake by Georgina Bloomberg, Catherine Hapka Page B

it.
    â€œWell … I guess I do have to eat,” she said.
    â€œWoo-hoo!” Alex grabbed her in an impulsive hug that turned into a kiss. Tommi didn’t even remember that Duck-face was still outside until she heard him let out a wolf whistle. She pulled her face away from Alex’s, both of them laughing.
    â€œCome on,” Tommi said. “Let’s go in and vote.”
    The two of them strolled into the house hand in hand to join the debate about where to eat. Tommi was trying to enjoy the feeling—this tentative-new-couple stage was one of her favorite parts of a relationship. But she was distracted by the sense of time passing. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Every minute that went by was one less she would get to sleep tonight.
    â€œTommi?” Courtney waved her hand in front of Tommi’s face. “Wake up. You’re the deciding vote.”
    â€œHuh?” Tommi blinked, realizing she’d spaced out while the others were talking. “Oh. Um, Thai sounds good.”
    Half the crowd cheered, while the rest groaned or cussed her out playfully. Alex leaned closer and planted a kiss on her cheek.
    â€œExcellent choice, Miss Aaronson,” he said.
    â€œThanks, Mr. Nakano.” She smiled at him, suddenly annoyed with herself for stressing out over something so stupid. What was the big deal? She was young and enjoying life. A little lost sleep shouldn’t even be on her radar.

    â€œEasy, tiger,” Zara murmured as she felt Grant’s hand slip inside her clothes. “We don’t want to put on a show for the driver.”
    â€œWhy stop now?” The cabbie, a skinny guy with an Eastern European accent and a sarcastic streak, glanced at them in the rearview. “I was about to start filming this for YouTube.”
    â€œWe’re paying you to drive, not to crack lame jokes,” Zara reminded him. She glanced out the window, forcing her eyes to focus until the dancing, swirling lights settled down into their normal patterns and she could see that they were only a couple of blocks from the loft. Wow, how many drinks had she had, anyway?
    Not as many as Grant, at least. The boy was seriously drunk. He was already groping at her again, mumbling a bunch of crap about how she made him feel. If only his prep school friends could see him now! She smiled at the thought.
    â€œSo tonight was fun,” she said, grabbing the armrest as the cab swerved around a stopped car. The driver leaned out the open window and let out a torrent of curses in whatever language he spoke.
    â€œYeah, it was great,” Grant slurred, clumsily running his hand up her leg. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Zara.”
    â€œI’ll bet you haven’t.” She smirked, feeling good about how the evening had gone. Grant was sweet, and she just loved corrupting a sweet guy.
    â€œHere we are, young lovers,” the cabbie announced, skidding to a stop in front of the loft. “Now get out of my cab before I have to disinfect it.”
    â€œGive it a rest, dude,” Zara said. “Listen, make sure this guy gets home, okay?” She gave him Grant’s Upper East Side address,hoping she was remembering it right. But whatever—guys like Grant always landed on their feet, right? “Trust me, he’s got the cash to pay when you get there.”
    â€œWhatever.” The cabbie shrugged, turning up the radio.
    Grant seemed to clue in to what was going on. He grabbed Zara, turning her to face him. “Wait. When will I see you again?” he asked.
    Instead of answering, she grabbed him for a good-night kiss. He cradled her face with one hand and her ass with the other, bending her back against the car door. Zara put everything she had into it—drunk or not, she wanted him to remember this. Then the cabbie started muttering under his breath and Zara pulled back, straightening her skirt.
    â€œI’ll call you, okay?” she said. “See