I nod, entering the lavish hotel. Maybe I’ll just get a room? That way if the bar pickup plan doesn’t work out, I can still enjoy myself.

I’ll drink champagne in the bathtub, rent a movie… Great, now that sounds way better than picking someone up. Who can even try to compete with Jett Powers anyway?

You have to at least get a drink. If it’s boring, leave and get a room, but you spent hours getting ready, so go.

I step into the elevator as three girls dressed in short dresses and heels rush in before the doors can close on them.

“Holy shit, Ashley is saying he’s at the bar.” One of the girls with a nose ring looks at her phone. The other two reapply their lip gloss.

One drink, I chant in my head. Then back to the lobby for a room. Maybe I’ll do a mindless Friends marathon… or The Office?

The elevator doors open and Rihanna’s “Live Your Life” spills from the speakers. The girls behind me push forward, beelining straight to the bar. It’s crowded and elegant, shaped like a square, with dark blue neon lights. I go forward, noticing the rest of the bar has booths and tables. A large wall water fountain is lit up with multicolored lights trickling down with the water.

I should leave. I’m super nervous, and why torture myself? I wanted to get out of the house. I’m out. Now I want to watch Friends and order room service.

One drink. I make my way to the bar, ignoring all the laughter and the throng of gorgeous people. This is cliché LA. Cher would be in heaven.

I squeeze my way in, ignoring the man who my right arm is touching, and lean forward to get the bartender’s attention.

“What can I get you?” A pretty dark-haired girl in a black tuxedo-like halter top smiles at me.

“Belvedere martini, with blueberries instead of olives if you have them. If not, olives are fine,” I yell.

“ID.” She wipes her hand on a bar towel as I fish through my bag, my face heating up as I hand her my fake one. Cher insisted we get them. It had better work; they were not cheap. She looks at it, then me, and smiles. “Blueberries it is.”

When she walks away, I take a deep breath and exhale, tossing my ID back into my bag.

“You okay?” the man next to me asks. I place both hands on the bar and go to give him my bitch glare, then remember the whole reason I’m here is to meet a stranger and let him fuck me.

“Fine.” I tilt my head and smile, then kind of falter, because he’s hot. Tall, wearing an expensive navy suit, with dark auburn hair.