His Fake Fiancee
Sofia's dress is of a similar cut but shimmers a bright pink, her mask wrapping around her head like mine.
They look hot as fuck. There's no other way to put it. Honestly, we all do. It helps that I'm wearing red, because it appears I'm the only one not wearing sky-high heels.
"My god, what are those?" I point down to Sofia’s feet. Her shoes sparkle silver and have to be at least six inches tall.
"These are my fuck-me heels."
We all laugh in unison, right as the driver announces our arrival. He pulls up to the curb in front of the club, and I lean across Sofia's lap to peer out the window.