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I smile wickedly. “That’s the only part I liked about the entire thing. I didn’t have to do a single thing in order to watch her lose her shit.”
* * *
BRANSON
Fuck the confession booth. I was never one to enjoy it. It was a way to get us all to talk shit about one another and twist our words. But I had a role to play. We all did.
“Branson,” the lady says. She sounds nice, but how the hell would I know since I can’t see her face because of the spotlight.
“Can you tell us a little more about you and Rayne? She’s very tight-lipped.”
Smiling, I rub my lip. “You’ll have to be more specific.
“Rayson? How do you feel about that?”
I sigh, “It’s a dope name, for sure. Definitely probable cause to have it, want it, but…” I trail off.
Rayne is… complicated.
* * *
RAYNE
I stare down at the picture Branson uploaded to Instagram. His large hand wrapped around my neck. My jaw curved up at the edge of the photo. My necklace nestling between my exposed breasts, saved for the black material covering my nipples. My strawberry blonde hair laid out in the background.
I slide to the comments. Most are women, begging to be the one he had his hand on. Even a couple of death threats were tossed about. It’s crazy what people say hiding behind a screen. There is no humanity. They look at us like we’re objects they’d love to possess.
That fucking bastard. No, you don’t know exactly who it is, but it won’t take Glitz and Glam long to figure it out. Groaning, I close out of the app and open the large pantry door, wanting to get a snack before we leave. Road trips made me hungry. But not as hungry as the girl sucking Branson off next to my cosmic brownies. Motherfucker. Not only did he give me an orgasm, kiss me until my lips swelled, and post me on the dang Gram, but he was also dirtying up my brownies.
“Oh my God!” I cover my eyes. “I can’t go anywhere without seeing your dick!” I scream. Seriously, my brownies.
“You could just, I don’t know, knock? Or maybe you do this on purpose. You want to take a spin, Darling?” Branson smirks, petting the girl's head. Gross.
“And you can choke on your STD-infested dick.” Go on, Rayne. Very mature, intelligent comeback. Why didn’t you point out this was a food pantry, there is no need to knock? Or, I don’t know, deny his claim that you wanted to take a “spin” on his dick?
He laughs, pushing the girl's head away from him as he stalks after me, zipping his pants up. I can’t believe I kissed this guy or let him give me an orgasm. Bad judgment on my part. Even if it was the best I’d ever had.
“Why don’t you admit the real problem here?” he challenges.
I stop, grabbing a wooden spoon, and turn around. Pointing my weapon at him, I say, “My real problem here is that you were getting your dick sucked next to my cosmic brownies.” He cups a hand over his mouth, eyes twinkling. Mine narrow as I smack his chest with the spoon. “Why not Tucker’s Oreos?”
“Aye! Leave my Oreos out of this, Strawberry!” Tucker screams from the living room.
“Or Justin’s protein bars? Or Tori’s low-calorie lemon cakes? Why did it have to be my freaking cosmic brownies?”
He stares at me. I stare back.
“Are you done?” he asks, gripping my wooden spoon until it snaps. I roll my eyes, walking into the living room. Heading straight for Tucker, who is waiting for me with a huge grin.
An arm bands around me, and I land on a lap instead. Turning, I glare at Branson. At his stupid, perfectly symmetrical face. “Boundaries,” I say slowly, in case he can’t understand.
“When it comes to you, I’ll break every single one,” he whispers.
Crossing my arms, I wait for everyone else to make it down so we can get this camping trip started.
* * *
“You can ride with me, Strawberry.” Tucker smiles from the car he is assigned. I see Emerald look up to Tucker and then at me. A girl code for picking someone else. Anyone, please.
