“Uh, Ella,” I called out, side-eying my stepmother. “Are you expecting visitors? Like, I don’t know, the FBI?”

“Visitors? No,” Ella said, poking her head out of the kitchen window. She froze. "Oh my!" she examined.

Because yeah. Three black Jeeps. Two bodyguards. And then like the climax of every Netflix K-drama ever they rushed to the middle car and opened the door.

An idea popped in my head.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, nearly fainting. “Is it Nate? Did he seriously come to pick me up?” My face heated. My stomach flipped. I was blushing like an idiot.

“Who is Nate?” Ella squinted at me.

I quickly tied my hair up don’t ask me why, but apparently people say I look prettier with it tied up. And if Nate was about to step out…well, priorities.

The car door opened.

But it wasn't Nate.

Instead, some guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes climbed out in an expensive suit. He should be in his mid-forties

I blinked.

I frowned at what I saw.

“Uh. Maybe he’s Nate’s dad?” Yeah. Maybe Nate was still in the car. Right? Right?!

I waited but there was no Nate.

"Hi young lady" the man greeted me.

I hissed silently, feeling disappointed.

"Who are you, and how can I help you?" Ella stepped forward.

“I’m looking for Mr. Arlo,” the man said.

My jaw dropped. “Dad?”

He turned to me, smiling like he knew all my secrets. “You’re his daughter. Yes…I can see the resemblance.”

Ella crossed her arms. “My husband is not at home.”

“Ah, shame. Well, tell him an old friend stopped by.” He winked and strolled back to his Jeep, bodyguards trailing after him like he was the king of England.

Creepy much?

One of his bodyguards handed a letter to us. "Give this to mr. Arlo"

I stared at the fading cars.

"Do you know them?"

"No, but he seems rich, maybe he is your dad's friend."

"I doubt that, Does dad have rich friends?"

"Ahem," Ella cleared her throat, her gaze slid to me. Suspiciously.

"What?" I eyed her.

"Who is Nate?"

My cheeks heated. “Nobody!” I went for my room before she could interrogate me.

I still had nothing to wear for the date. My so-called wardrobe was 90% faded t-shirts and jeans with mysterious stains. The 10%? Worse.

So I called for backup. Girl gang time.

An hour later, I'm at Violet’s house, Clara immediately hugged me like I’d returned from war. Violet? She just smirked, flipping her perfect hair.

“So,” Clara grinned. “How’s the date prep going?”

“That’s the problem.” I groaned. “I have zero clothes. Nada. Zilch.”

“Then wear your normal stuff. Just be yourself. You don't need to pretend because of a date." Violet shrugged.

“Be myself? Violet, I look like an unpaid intern for a construction site.”

Clara threw her hands up. “No! This is a date. She needs to look pretty! This isn’t about pretending, it’s about effort.”

Violet snorted. “Please. She doesn’t even own decent shoes. Just let her wear her… whatever."

"Violet, why are you talking like this? Mira is your friend for Pete's sake! She came here, so we can help her out,"

"Why are you shouting? I didn't force her on a date, maybe she should cancel it. After all, it's just a game. Mira should I go instead, I'll save you from such embarrassment, dates aren't child's play "

“What the actual...?” My heart dropped.

“Violet!” Clara glared. “She’s your friend!”

"She is going no matter what, and I'm not shouting at you. we can help her, I'm sure of that "

I swallowed hard. “For the record, it’s not like I want to wear faded jeans and boots that died in 2012. But food and tuition kind of rank higher than Gucci. Newsflash: I’d love to dress like you, Violet. But I can’t. Okay?”

There was Silence.

Even Violet looked guilty for a second.

"Are you okay ?" Clara asked, feeling concerned.

"Don't worry Clara, you girls should stop arguing."

Violet sighed "Are you still going on the date?"

"Why not?" Clara glared at her.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Violet shot back.

Then Clara clapped. "I have an idea."

"And it is?" Violet asked, frowning.

"let's help Mira, give her one of your pretty dresses, and we makeover."

"Can you girls do that? Won't it be a burden?" I asked because Violet was not buying the idea.

"No, we are friends, right Violet?"

"Whatever, if I say no, you will tag me as a bad friend."

"Great!" Clara exclaimed.

We went to Violet's closet, Violet kept complaining on every single dress I wore.

“That’s too short.”

“That's so tight, can you breathe?"

“Too expensive.”

“That one? Eight thousand dollars. My boyfriend gave it to me. Hands off.”

Finally, we landed on a dress. Heels too.

"That's too high."

"No, I can't give you that."

"Red on yellow? seriously?"

"Can't she wear normal flat shoes, can you walk in those?"

"Violet stop complaining." Clara shouted.

"I'm not complaining, I'm suggesting!"

By the time we finished, I was glowing. Like Cinderella post–fairy godmother. Except with more eyeliner.

My phone buzzed. Nate sent the address.

“Try not to trip in those heels,” Violet muttered as I grabbed my bag. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

I ignored her, taking a taxi to the address.

On the way, I can't help but think Nate is unromantic. He didn't send any dress like the guys do in the movie. He didn't even send a car to pick me up.

But when I arrived at the address, I froze.

No romantic candlelit dinner. No fancy rooftop restaurant.

It was an amusement park.

I checked the address again.

I sighed, muttering, “So much for fairy tales.”

Then his voice. “Ahem.”

I turned around. Stood Nate, hands shoved in his pockets, casual as ever. Messy hair. Plain t-shirt. Jeans. Looking like a walking sin while I stood there overdressed like I was heading to the Met Gala.

“Hi,” I whispered, heart hammering.

He smirked. “You are here. Follow me.”

And just like that, my heart forgot how to beat properly.