Page 78 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

Chapter40

Nikki

Wednesday

I stoodin the small kitchen inside L&K and looked down at my phone, reading another message from Lilly. I told her to stop trying to get in the middle of Tristan and me–the last thing I wanted was Uncle Henry’s niece wasting her time worrying about us–but she just wouldn’t give up.

Nikki, he really did break things off with Rochelle! He never slept with her. I know he lied before, but it’s the truth this time.

She was a good friend, but I wasn’t going to be pushed around by Lilly the same way Tristan always was.

I typed back: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice?

She sent back the groaning emoji face just as Kelly walked in.

Well, Kelly bounced in, actually. She had a perfect shade of nude lipstick painted on her full lips, and her hair was braided to perfection. It was impossible not to look at her and smile. Her joy was infectious.

“Wow, Kel, look at you. Harvey who? Am I right?” Oh gosh, I sounded just like Lilly. Was this distance from Tristan turning me back into a teenager? I was already pining like one, I suppose I could add speaking like one to my list of offenses.

She bubbled out a laugh, dropping the manila folder she came in with on the small circular table.

“I’m going on a date with Kyle.”

I squinted and ran my mind over the list of men we knew. “Oh, you mean our associate Kyle?”

Kelly beamed and let out an excited giggle. “He is so gorgeous, isn’t he? He’s taking me out to a make-your-own-pizza place. Cute, right?”

The marinara-hands story shimmied into my brain and I grimaced. “Oh… pizzas. That is cute.”

She eyed my expression and folded her arms. “What’s going on with that face? Tell me.”

“I really don’t want to.”

“Tough. Come on Nikki, be a big girl and tell me.”

I sighed. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just the last time I made pizzas was with Tristan.”

She quirked a brow. “Oh?”

“And we got really drunk.”

She unfolded her arms and leaned forward, a glint in her eye. “And?”

“And we fell asleep.”

Disappointment etched across her features. “Oh.”

“Then I sleep-humped Tristan’s thigh.”

Her eyes flew open and she screeched, “WHAT?”

I cringed. “I know. I found out about it a couple of weeks ago. Tristan and I were so drunk, and I didn’t remember a thing. But he did and, like every other important detail of our lives, he kept it from me.”

She stiffened. “He didn’t rub that incredibly embarrassing story all over your face the second you were both sober?”

I shook my head.

“Do you think he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to make you feel bad?”