New, silky shorts cling to my Nicole v2.0 ass in a way that makes me feel like I've stepped into someone else's life. Someone hotter. More confident. The crop top barely contains my glamour-enhanced chest, and I can't stop staring at my reflection. I spin in front of the mirror, watching the way my now-blonde hair catches the light.
Penelope had a bag of clothes delivered not even thirty minutes after texting her. Bless her. Logan spent that entire thirty minutes purposely not looking at me, and it has me just a smidgen irritated.
The magic humming beneath my skin feels almost intoxicating—like I've had just enough champagne to silence my usual insecurities. I fluff my hair, admiring how it falls in perfect waves. No frizz. No effort. Just glossy perfection.
He has to be into this. There's no way he's not. He's just being stubborn.
