Chapter 19. Leather

Tessa’s POV

The text on Thursday night said only:

UNKNOWN: Cute debate. See you Saturday, wolfless.

Same number as the library. I didn’t answer. I blocked it, and then I lay awake for an hour wondering how many other numbers she has.

I didn’t tell Wyatt. Rule seven: if I need him, I’ll say so.

I don’t need him for this.

That’s what I tell myself on Saturday night at 8:40, standing in front of my mirror in a leather skirt that isn’t mine, trying to decide whether I look like a girl going to a party or a girl wearing a costume of one.

“Stop doing that with your face,” Darcy says from my bed.

“I’m not doing anything with my face.”

“You’re doing the thing where you look like you’re about to apologize to the skirt.” She sits up. “It’s a great skirt. It’s my skirt. You look hot. End of discussion.”

I tug at the hem. It’s short. Not obscene. Just shorter than anything I’ve ever worn to a party with Cole, mostly becau