Page 98 of Bound By Threads
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By the timewe’re home, I’m ready for the girls’ night I have planned with Angel and Zara. Desperate for some reality that doesn’t involve something with a penis.
I toss my phone on the bed and start pulling clothes out of my closet, trying to shake off the emotional fog I can feel shrouding me.
Tonight’s not about any of them.
Not about the past, or the present.
It’s about unwinding with the two girls who somehow became the only real friends I’ve had in years.
Angel arrives, digging through my clothes like they’ve personally insulted her, and Zara lounges on my bed in a pink silk dress that shows off all her curves.
“If you wear black again, I swear to God—” Angel groans. “Why do you own so many jeans?”
“They’re comfy,” I mumble, holding up a top that looks like every other one I own.
“Yeah, well, you’re not going on stage tonight. You don’t have to look like a brooding goddess. Pick something that says, ‘I’m out with hot girls and we’re dangerous.’”
“How specific,” Zara deadpans.
Angel winks. “It’s a gift.”
“Please tell me we’re getting trashy drinks with umbrellas,” Zara groans dramatically.
Angel holds up a pair of crop tops. “Only if Lottie stops trying to dress like she’s mourning.”
My smile drops at the mention of the word “mourning,” the sting of Roman’s words still fresh in my mind. I glance at the mirror, applying mascara, trying to push all the emotions away.
But I can feel it—the weight of the past week pressing down on me.
I can’t shake the feeling that everything is spiraling and I can’t control any of it.
Unfortunately, I’ve spent enough time with both of these girls that we can speak with just a look.
Zara looks at me, her eyes kind. “Rough week?”
Without thinking, I spill it all—the hurt from Roman’s words about my dad, the guilt, the confusion. The way Crew showed up, streaked cherry red, but sober and pleading, promising me things I never dreamt he would. I try to keep it together, but the words come out in a rush, and the lump in my throat only makes it harder.
Angel’s eyes soften, and Zara just listens, nodding.
“And now I don’t know what to do,” I finish, “I’m stuck in this mess and I don’t know how to get out. Top it all off, I have a shit load of guilt when it comes to Archer and Oscar. They’re amazing and I should be happy with just them, but Crew…”
There’s a long silence, then Zara shifts on the bed, her voice firm. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight. Just… take a deep breath and let’s get drunk. All of this can be tomorrow Lottie’s problem… or the day after. It all depends on how drunk we get you.”
Angel gives me a quick hug. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back. Always. And if you need us to hide a body, we can do that, too. I have contacts.”
I chuckle through the tears that I’m doing my best to hold back. “Of course you do. How about some cocktails and a dance?”
“You got it, babe,” Angel grins.
“We’re your girls. We’ve got you but I swear if you don’t make us a group chat so we can be kept up to date daily I’ll kick your ass.”
Angel nods. “That’s another tomorrow’s Lottie’s problem. Tonight, we drink.”
I manage a smile. “Tonight we drink.”
Angel throws an arm around my shoulders, dragging me toward the closet again. “That’s the spirit. Now come on, if we’re going to that bar Zara likes, you need to look like you want to be there.”
