“Don’t try to flip this back to me. What exciting event did you have last night?”
“None. We stayed in.” The blush on her cheeks made it obviouswhostayed inwhat…
Concern softened her expression. “But brie? What’s wrong? Is the new job that bad?”
I couldn’t blame her superhero-esque leap to conclusions on her penchant for the dramatics. Cheese had always been my go-to coping mechanism when I was stressed.
Or sad.
Or drunk.
I’d been two of the three and on my way to the trifecta the night before, but I’d fallen asleep on my couch before I could fix a second drink.
A real wild night for me.
I wasn’t ready to get into the cause of my stress and sadness. Not with her. Hell, not with myself. If I thought about it too much, the decadent French toast in my stomach would turn to sludge churning in a cement mixer, and that was a crime.
So I did what I did best when stress hit.
I boxed up the unpleasantness to deal with a different time—like the fourth of never—and evaded my friend. “I just wanted cheese for dinner. The job is still good. It was nice actually doing something to earn that unreasonable salary.”
“I only met Alex a few times, but he seemed pretty worthless, so I’m sure you’ll have lots of opportunities to fix his mistakes.”
That should’ve been depressing, but I was strangely looking forward to it.
“I still don’t get why Tripp didn’t fire him sooner,” Maddie continued. “Other than he’d lose his party bro. But maybe this means Easton and I won’t have to go break up anymore house parties.”
I thought about navigating through the evidence of his rager. “I wouldn’t rule that out. Unless his house was in that condition yesterday because a panty bomb detonated.”
She choked back a cackle, and her whispered voice was a mix of horrified and amused. “Apantybomb?”
“Technically, it was just one thong left behind, but it had a phone number written on it.”
“What a talented vagina.”
“I’d be more impressed if it could write in cursive.”
There was no holding back the laughter from either of us, but Maddie did it while shaking her head. “At least this job is more interesting than getting coffees and ass slaps from that bro firm.” Her head froze. “Wait, was there anyone else in his bed?”
I shook my head.
Though this morning might be a different story.
In my early morning doomscroll before yoga, I’d seen a few pictures and videos of Tripp and a hottie outside of a nightclub. According to the captions, they’d been leaving just shortly before I’d woken up. Only one of the posts had mentioned that they’d gone their separate ways but heavily implied they could be reconvening somewhere private.
Pun intended.
I knew it was inevitable that I would find him in bed with someone—orsomeones. Tripp was insanely attractive. Funny. Shockingly thoughtful. He had an easy charm that came across as an even easier flirtation. That was appealing enough, but he also had this ability to make whoever he was talking to feel like the center of the universe. He wasn’t distracted by work—though that would be justified. He didn’t split his focus between listening to me and scrolling his phone.
Any time I spoke, he was locked in like I was sharing the most fascinating secrets of the world and not explaining which color pen meant what.
It was why he was successful. It was also why there was a heavy rotation of starlets and models he was linked to in gossip blogs. And even that was likely nothing compared to how many actually warmed his bed.
Or guest bed.
Or the pool table, if that discarded pile of clothes was any indication.
Though I would prefer not to witness any of the nitty gritty nudity, the rest was none of my business.
