He shrugs. “Guess I like doing insane things.”
I look back down, the golden logo on the ticket glinting under his room lights and my brain’s short-circuiting. The Network Collective. It’s the biggest annual business conference in Chicago and every business major dreams of attending because it’s where CEOs, founders, and investors come to scout top students. Basically, the Met Gala for overachievers.
I’ve been obsessed with it since freshman year, but the tickets kept getting more ridiculous. They started at five grand, then seven and this year, it’s practically ten. Ten thousand dollars for a chance to breathe the same air as billionaires and somehow, I’m holding two tickets.
“This is like… a dream,” I whisper, still staring at them. My throat tightens as I look up at Braydon, who’s now
