My thumb, operating on muscle memory alone, went straight for the MeatMarket icon—the way I normally distracted myself.
But I stopped myself from tapping it.
Instead I opened up my photo gallery. There, the first pic, was that selfie I took last night in the club. Me and Camille. Something about the picture wrenched at my aching chest more. We looked good together. We lookedcutetogether. In a weird way. Not your normal couple.
Her smile had the slightest up-curl in her upper lip. Like at any moment she could snap, and snarl at me, and those arms she had draped around my neck might wring my throat instead. But her tits. Man, her awesome tits. She really was pushing them up and out, right by my face, like she were daring me to look.
And me?
Well, I just looked happy.
I sighed, put that picture in a text message, and sent it to the number she typed in my phone last night.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter 14
Goth Phase
Camille
For the second time in two nights, I knocked on Piper's apartment door.
Piper, wearing an over-sized blue-and-red Scouts jersey, dramatically swung the door open.
“Hello, darling!”
“Hi,” I muttered as I stepped into her apartment.
“Feeling dark today, are we?” Piper asked, noting my outfit. I wasnotwearing a hockey jersey. Instead, I was wearing a see-through black-lace blouse, with a sexy black bra beneath; well-worn and torn black jeans, with fishnet leggings below that peeked out from the denim's holes; and, finally, black boots that saidI can kick your ass, fucker.
Which was exactly what I was hoping to do. Especially after I got Beau's sleazy-ass text message an hour ago. It was that revolting selfie of us, along with a caption that read, “Had fun last nite. How'd the opening go?”
Yeah. I bet you did have fun, Beau. I bet you did.
My finger-tips whipped up a reply and mashed the send button before I could stop myself:
“Fuck off and die, asshole.”
Oops! Maybe Beau was right. Maybe I do have a dark side after all. Oh well.
“Iamfeeling a little dark today,” I answered Piper in an ironically cheery tone. “And I'm still not happy you're making me go to this game, by the way.”
“I know you're not. But a deal's a deal, and this is what you get for having dirty, sweaty sex in my bed.”
I sighed. “Thanks for that reminder. Really. 'Cause I needed it.”
She giggled. “What'd you do with my sheets, anyway?”
“They're sitting in a garbage bag in my apartment. I thought I might burn them, actually. They don't have a right to exist in this world anymore—”
Piper squealed. “No! Don't do that! Those are my favorite sheets and I want them back.”
“You wouldn't want them back if you'd seen the sweat-and-cum Jackson Pollock we painted all over—”
“Okay okay okay!” Piper plugged her ears and shouted over me until I stopped. “You know, I might be acting surprisingly cool over the fact that you fucked a guy in my bed while I was passed out on the couch, but I really don't need you putting visuals likethatin my head!”
I snickered.
