6
NORA
Weston was right about one thing—I was already second-guessing myself.
I’d changed into a black dress and my favorite pair of red-bottomed heels, which I only pulled out when I needed moral support. Now, we were in Weston’s Subaru, driving downtown, and I had no idea if this was the right thing to do.
Me, pick up guys? Learn how to flirt? Let loose?
It seemed…impossible.
And yet here I was, fidgeting up a storm, but still on my way to do it.
“Are you sure about this?”
He’d thrown on dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a bomber jacket before we left. His hair fell forward into his eyes when he looked at me. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this, but I’m here for you if you want.”
“I…” I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted to be over August. I was so pissed at him for everythi
