Page 70 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

They didn’t see him leave my room. That much is obvious. If they had, this would be uglier. And way more vicious.

When I don’t give her the response she’s looking for, she addresses me directly. “What the hell was that between the two of you last night, Lola?”

Shit.Didshe see him leave?

“Honestly,” she says, “you and Reid should really work on your energy. It’s not exactly chill, you know. He stormed after you and we could hear you two yelling at each other.”

I keep my face neutral and my mouth shut.

“He’s going to be around a lot more, Lola. So, you two need to work your shit out. I mean it wassodramatic. Get over yourself.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

“Just saying,” she adds, and flips her hair.

Blaire finally speaks. “I don’t know. You and the guys have gotten pretty close, haven’t you, Lola?”

The smile that comes with it is soft enough to pass for polite if you didn’t really know Blaire. I’ve lived with her long enough to know better. She’s fishing, looking for some reaction to confirm what she thinks is going on.

I don’t give her what she’s looking for. “Not really,” I say nonchalantly. “I mean, I’ve known Reid and Miles for forever. Gotta run, though. I’m late.”

I look over at the guys’ house as I head toward my car. My fingers are tight around the strap of my bag, and I already hate the idea forming in my head. I grab my phone anyway and open the thread between me and Miles.

Still nothing.

There’s a few messages from me going back to the morning I walked out of his room without looking back. I can see he read them, he just hasn’t responded to a single one.

I hesitate. Then I type.

Lola: You don’t have to talk to me. I just want to know you’re okay.

I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. I backspace half the line and rewrite it. Then rewrite it again. Then delete the whole thing and start over.

Lola: I didn’t mean to hurt you.

My thumb hovers over send. Nope. That’s not it either.

Lola: Can we talk? Please?

I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.

Then I shove my phone in my bag and slide into the driver’s seat already knowing he probably won’t answer.

Every class today feels longer than the last. And without anyone else to lean on for a break, I carry it all alone. Reid hasn’t been back in since Gigi interrupted us. He offered all this help and never followed through on it.

Maybe he’s waiting for me to ask. I just can’t bring myself to do that. As much as I need his help, I don’t want it. I don’t trust that he won’t find a way to hold it over my head and demand something in return.

Sure the sex is mind blowing, but he’s still Reid. And Reid is an asshole.

Every moment of my day is busy. The few moments I do have between classes are spent doing all the little things it takes to keep a studio running. I clean the bathroom, launder the towels, sort the merch bins, and answer the urgent emails in my inbox. It’s not enough to quiet the thoughts in my head.

By the time the sun starts to dip behind the buildings, I’m wrung out. My muscles throb from overwork. My head aches.I’ve had too much caffeine and not enough food. I know I should go home. Shower. Sleep. Try again tomorrow.

I sit in the back office with my phone in my lap for too long. I scroll through my contacts. I pass over Reid quickly. I hover on Miles for a second. No. I can’t press the button. There’s no reason to put myself through the pain of him refusing to answer.

Then I land on Jude.

I type without thinking.