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Rhys may be pissed about having to waste a Friday night at this gala, but as we’re trudging home from the arena, I’m pretty sure he isn’t the one of us in the worst mood.
The sinking feeling is still in my chest a little later when I walk upstairs while the other guys are hanging out in the living room, drinking beers and playing some videogame.
I fall back onto my bed and hold my phone to my face. I’m looking at my text thread with Olivia. I wish I could send her some stupid joke and know that she’s laughing, or at least struggling to hold back a laugh, no matter what she types as a response.
But she’s still pissed at me. I don’t even totally understand why. Or what I can do about it.
My head drops back against my pillow. I think about that night in the club, when she came on my fingers. I think about that day we drove around town looking for Pretzel M&M’s.
And I think about what I can do to get more days and nights like those with Olivia.
18
OLIVIA
“Can you believe that it turned out he was the underboss of the Mafia family responsible for her own father’s death?”
“I know,” I respond to Summer, leaning towards her over the middle couch cushion, my eyes wide. “But Nikolai had nothing to do with that!”
Summer tut-tuts, shaking her head after taking a sip of her wine. “Still. I don’t know if I could have forgiven him.”
“Come on,” I say. “After the way he groveled?”
She sighs. “You’re right. Of course I’d have forgiven him.”
Summer’s officially pulled me into the world of smutty romance novels. It’s Friday night, and we’re spending it with a bottle of wine, on the couch, yapping about a Mafia romance book we just devoured together.
I finished the book when I got home from classes this afternoon. Summer finished it yesterday, and for the past twenty-four hours she’s been a ball of impatient energy, eager for me to catch up so we could talk about it. We’ve been obsessing over it together since I finally did.
The book’s been a great distraction from the shitty mood I’ve been in over Tuck.
In the time I’ve had to stew on it, I’ve recognized that maybe I overreacted a little. I mean, I understand from his point of view that he was only doing something nice. Something that was easy for him that would help me.
At the same time, it still doesn’t sit right with me. How entitled he felt to involve himself in my business. It’s like him taking a big step closer to me than I feel comfortable with.
Granted, maybe it’s a little silly to worry about being too close to a guy who I grinded against at a club, who I let pull me into a dim hallway and thrust his hand into my panties, giving me the most incredible orgasm of my life.
A hot blush races up my neck and into my cheeks at the memory.
Summer clearly notices my darkening face and wiggles her eyebrows. “Ah, you must be thinking about the kitchen scene,” she says, referring to one of the spiciest chapters in the book.
Thanks for the lifeline, bestie. “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Definitely. That scene was so hot.”
In terms of believability, my reply certainly doesn’t measure up to the standard I hold myself to on stage. But it’s enough to keep Summer from suspecting that there’s something else making me turn crimson.
Salsa jumps onto the cushion between Summer and me. She rolls onto her back and stretches out, clearly demanding tummy rubs.
Summer and I laugh and oblige, which has Salsa purring with delight. She’s a big, fluffy Norwegian Forest Cat. She was a stray, living in an alley in town last semester. Hudson found her and decided to take her home.
But Tuck was allergic, so he had to give her up. This set into motion a series of events which involved Summer taking her in to live with us, in exchange for Hudson pretending to be her boyfriend. Along the way they fell in love for real, and our house has become Salsa’s permanent home.
No complaints from me. She’s a sweetheart. Hudson says she was vicious when he first found her, but I don’t buy it.
After polishing off a generous portion of our wine, we’ve pretty much exhausted everything there is to talk about when it comes to the book we just read.
Summer takes the opportunity to spring a big topic change on me.
“Still mad at Tuck?” she asks.
