Savvy Girl by Lynn Messina

Author:Lynn Messina [Messina, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HMH Books

I read through it twice, ecstatic that he took the time to explain why he was distracted before. Obviously he cares what I think of him. Which must mean he likes me, too. Otherwise he wouldn't be looking forward to seeing me later. Or tell me that he was.

Rereading the e-mail for the fourth time, I realize I can't possibly tell him I've got pneumonia (chosen for its misdiagnosis potential; a burst appendix is a burst appendix). If I break our date, I might be missing my one chance to be with him. There has to be another solution.

After much, much, much soul searching I decide to talk to Jessica. I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe it's no big deal for her to call the publicist and add another name to the list. It must happen all the time. And Jessica's a really important person. I mean, what's the point of being a tall, thin, beautiful, chic, British, ex-model fashion editor if you can't bring whoever you want to a party?

I walk to her office, incredibly relieved to have found a reasonable solution.

But once I'm in her office I can't say the words. Suddenly my request seems really, really embarrassing—not that I have a crush on a guy but that I'm so desperate for him to like me that I'd invite him to a party I have no right inviting him to. The bottom line is Jessica Cordero, one of the coolest people on the face of the earth, thinks I'm cool, too. She's so convinced of my massive coolness that she assumed my dumbstruck amazement this morning was indecision. As if someone like me could ever possibly think that a Stella McCartney party at H&M would be a drag. You can't buy that kind of rep. It has to come honestly, and by mistake. And I don't want to risk it, not even for Michael Davies.

"Hey, chica, what's up?" she asks when I stand in her doorway for a few seconds without saying anything.

What is up? "Nothing much," I say, thinking quickly. "I just forgot what time we—"

The second I come up with a believable cover story, the phone rings. Jessica glances at the display and raises her hand to stop me. "This'll only take a minute. Please have a seat."

My made-up question would take less than half that time, but I sit across from her and examine the objects on her desk while she talks. Like me, she has a snow globe of the Kuala Lampur towers, although hers is almost completely covered with small Post-it notes with scribbled messages. She also has several pictures of herself with other tall, gorgeous, British people (or American—it's hard to tell from a photo). Her week-at-a-glance calendar is opened to next month and is completely filled with names and numbers. It's the neatest thing I've ever seen. I don't have any sort of day planner but if I had as many things going on as she, I'd run to Kate Spade and get a beautiful bound leather one, too.

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