Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

“Well, kind of,” Bridget answered. “I did see Eric. But
we didn’t hook up or anything.”
“Did you want to?” Diana asked.
Bridget nodded. “I think tonight might be the night.”
She tried to convey confidence without swagger.
“Tonight is going to be what night?” Ollie asked, sitting
down with her tray.
“My night to hook up, Oh-livia,” Bridget responded.
“You think so?” Olivia asked.
“I do.” Bridget didn’t want to go into what had happened
last night. It seemed too intimate to give details.
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” Ollie said in a doubtful,
challenging way.
Bridget couldn’t resist a little bravado. “I can’t wait to
tell you.”
Sherrie stopped by their table on her way out.
“Bridget, you’ve got a package.”
Bridget got up. A suspicion about the package sent a
thrill up to her scalp. She was fairly sure the clothes she’d
asked her dad for hadn’t arrived yet. Her father was the
notoriously cheap Dutchman. No way he would have
sent her stuff by fast mail. That meant it was . . .
She ran barefoot to the main building and stood fidgeting
at the telephone desk. “Hello!” she yelled to get attention.
Patience might be a virtue, but it wasn’t her virtue.
Eve Pollan, Connie’s assistant, came out from the
office. “Yeah?”
Bridget couldn’t keep her feet still. “Package for me?
Bridget Vreeland. V-R-E-E—”
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