By Nell Stark and Trinity Tam

SPREAD THE INFECTION...

The phone rang just as I finished zipping up my dress, and I looked down to see Nicole’s familiar picture. I rolled my eyes. I had only five minutes until eight o’clock, and I would have bet money that my date wasn’t going to be fashionably late tonight.

“I’m putting you on speaker,” I said by way of greeting, “while I do my make-up.”

“Lexie! You must tell me what you’re wearing.”

Nicole was my closest friend in New York and the only person in my life who could get away with shortening “Alexa” to “Lexie.” She had stubbornly refused to call me anything else, ever since the day we’d met at a reception for prospective NYU law students just over a year ago.

I bit back a sigh and picked up my eyeliner. “The strapless one.”

“Oh my god, I knew you would. She’s not going to be able to keep her hands off you!”

Leaning in toward the mirror, I inspected my work. I always received compliments on my green eyes, but the liner made them stand out even more. Good. “I’m not going to sleep with her on the first date, Nic.”

“So you say,” she sing-songed. “But this is Valentine Darrow we’re talking about. She’s used to getting what she wants. And I know you’ve thought about it.”

The memory of Val as I’d seen her this morning popped into my head—slouching in jeans and a gray hoodie against the wall outside my first class, a chai latte cupped in both hands. Her hair was still tousled and her eyelids were at half-mast, and I had been completely blindsided by my sudden desire to drag her right back into the bed she had clearly just rolled out of.

I felt my cheeks grow warm and raised the mascara brush, gripping it like a weapon. I had to keep my wits about me tonight. “I’m not interested in becoming a notch on someone’s bedpost.”

“The woman has pursued you for weeks!” Nicole protested. “Believe me when I tell you that this is not her m.o.”

“She’s just fascinated because I’m not swooning all over her like the usual suspects.” I thought back to the first night I’d met Val, exactly two weeks ago now. She had been tending bar, and had asked me out when I’d gone up to buy a round for my friends. Not interested in a one-night stand, I’d declined. But the following Monday, she had started appearing at my first class with offerings of caffeinated beverages. And then I found out who she was.

Nicole ignored my rationalization. “I’m dying to know where you’ll be eating. You must text me when you get to the restaurant. My god, she could be taking you anywhere: Per Se, maybe, or even Jean Georges!”

I took a step back from the mirror and smoothed the dress over my hips, feeling butterflies stir in my stomach. Nic was right: as the daughter of the Treasury Secretary, Val probably had the keys to this entire city. I paused, lipstick poised half an inch from my mouth, suddenly wondering whether Val thought my change of heart might have to do with her father’s money.

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