Break Up with Him, for Me (You Belong With Me 1)

Refreshing my phone screen for the thousandth time, I leaned back against the seat in one of Hayden’s town cars.

“Hey there.” The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay, Miss Penelope?”

“I’m fine, Chance,” I said. “Just waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure that you can tell your best friend and he’ll buy it within seconds.”

I forced a smile and refreshed my screen again.

As we rounded the block to my brownstone, my phone rang with an unknown number.

“Simon?” I answered without the slightest bit of grace.

“Who the hell is Simon?” Travis’s voice was on the other line.

Ugh. “No one I’ll ever tell you about.”

“Good.” He laughed. “I don’t want to hear about him until he proposes. This is my new business phone, by the way. Save the number.”

“I’m doing quite fine, Travis,” I said, hating that he had no phone etiquette whatsoever. “Thank you so much for asking. How are you?”

“Great, and good to know that you’re fine. You know I’ve never been good at small talk.”

You’re not good at communication in general. “My birthday is coming up soon.”

“I know that. I already asked Hayden for advice on what to get you.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’ll call you back later this week to spoil it, just in case you want something else. Love you, Crown.”

I laughed. “Love you, too.”

I ended the call and waited for the car to pull the curb before stepping out. Rummaging through my purse for my keys, I overheard a series of honking cars and screams.

“What in the hell?” “Are you serious?” “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey! Hey! Penelope?”

I turned around and saw Simon rushing across the street in a suit. He was dodging taxis, ignoring the way they were flipping him off.

“I was hoping that was you,” he said, smiling. “I think I’ve tracked down every Penelope Carter in this city.”

I blushed as he moved closer. “You’ve really been trying to track me down?”

“Yeah. Is there a reason you haven’t called?” he asked. “Was I misreading our conversation at the airport?”

“No, I—” I tried to think of a non-Hayden reason. “I lost your napkin in baggage claim.”

“Okay, well …” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Can I have your phone number?”

I nodded, reciting it and feeling it buzz against my pocket seconds later.

“I was hoping you’d still be able to come to my party this weekend,” he said. “Is that possible?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Where is it?”

“Pier sixty-two. It’s on a super-yacht.”

“You rented one of those for a party?”

“No, I own one of those.” He smiled. “It starts at seven, but people won’t start getting there until eight. Myself included.”

“In college, you were always an hour early.”

“That was before people started asking me for money.” He laughed. “Now I’m purposely late so they don’t get the chance.” He stepped closer. “They’re also a bit more hesitant to get closer if they see that I have a date.”

I blushed again.

“I should’ve asked you out in college,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been subtle back then, and I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’d really love to see you this weekend.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Hey, asshole!” A gruff voice shouted from across the street. “How long do you plan on holding up traffic with your lover boy bullshit?”

“Yeah!” Someone else shouted. “I hope she’s giving it up to you if you’re willing to act like you own this damn street!”

“I guess I should move my car now.” He stepped back, laughing. “See you this weekend, Penelope.”

“See you this weekend.”

I watched him slip behind the wheel of a bright red, candy-coated Ferrari. I waited for him to disappear down the block before rushing inside my place.

The moment I entered the living room, I was slapped in the face with something soft yet itchy.

What the hell?

I stepped back, realizing that it was a silk shirt with sequins on its sleeve, and it was hanging from a wardrobe rack full of other silk shirts.

Stepping around it, I saw more racks lined up in the dining room, then black and white boxes that were stacked high near the windows.

Versace. Fendi. Christian Louboutin.

“Hey there!” Tatiana tiptoed around a tower of Prada boxes. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home.”

“Were you waiting to brag about a shopping spree?”

“Ha! Please.” She picked up an envelope and handed it to me. “Your best friend did all the shopping apparently.”

I tore it open and read the card.

* * *

Penelope,

* * *

I think it’s way past time for you to have a wardrobe that you don’t have to rent.

* * *

Don’t try to pay me back, and don’t you dare ask how much this costs.

* * *

Just accept it.

* * *