I lift a shoulder. “Maybe, but I don’t have anything to lose.”
“Isn’t there some sort of bro-code that forbids you from ratting out another guy?”
Fuck that. “People who cheat are the scum of the earth. Your boss deserves to know the truth, but you don’t deserve the shit you’ll get if she finds out you’re the one he cheated with. Youdidn’t know any better and ended things the moment you found out, right?”
“I ran into the bathroom and texted that ratbag straight away.”
Ratbag. I like it. Suits him. “Exactly.” I pull out my phone. “What’s her handle?”
“Rebecca James. There’s an underscore in the middle.”
I tap on the Instagram icon and wait for the app to load. As soon as it does, I type in the woman’s name. “Damn.” She’s a stunner. Does she look as good without all the makeup?
Every other photo is a picture of some exotic dish or another. Personally, I’ve never understood the trend. Food is for eating, not for posting.
Loren’s head falls back against the seat. “I know, right? What kind of dipshit would cheat on someone like her?”
Someone like Rebecca, not someone like Loren. The casual distinction pisses me off. “He cheated on both of you.” Rebecca isn’t the only victim here.
Loren blows a raspberry through her lips. “I guess.”
Seriously?
Sure, this Rebecca looks like a Victoria’s Secret model, but Loren is pretty too. And she looks just as good with a fresh face.
Not that I tell her any of that because now is not the time to hit on my neighbor.
Even knowing the DM will go straight to Rebecca’s “Requests” folder, I type out a quick message and hit send.
“I don’t know, Elliott. Maybe we should wait and see if he tells her.”
“Too late. It’s already done.”
“What?” Loren jerks out of her seat, leaning over the center console to grab my phone. “You sent it already? What did you say?” Her thumb swipes across the screen over and over again, as if there’s more to see than a couple of lines.
“I said I saw him making out with another girl and thought she’d want to know.” Which isn’t a lie at all because I had seen dipshit and Loren making out in the parking lot one night.
She pushes the phone at me and falls back into her seat, pressing her palm to her forehead. “It’s fine. It’sfine. No one will know it was me.”
“Exactly. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
I jump out of the car and run around to the passenger side before she opens the door. It’s a good thing, too, because she must not remember how high up she is and misses the running board completely, falling straight into me. I have to catch her to keep her from face-planting on asphalt.
Why did she put her heels back on?
I take her hand and help her climb. We reach the second floor before she tugs free of my hold and plops down on the concrete. “My legs are tired.”
“Come on. Three more floors and you’re home.”
“I can’t do it. You go ahead.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.”
“I’ll be fine.” She eases back on her elbows.
“Don’t you dare lie down. Loren, get up. Loren? There’s gum right beside your head.”
She launches upright and glowers down at the hunk of pink next to where she was about to pass out.
