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Her shoulders shake with a laugh.
“Ready to go?”
I stare at her for a beat, seriously considering telling her no. But then I remember both her and Calli telling me how much they wanted us to party together.
The last time we did was Halloween, and that couldn’t have ended worse. Since then, shit has been too fucked up to let go and enjoy ourselves, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that.
My lips part to agree, but then a deep voice rumbles from somewhere else in the flat and my stomach sinks.
“Sorry,” Stella mouths.
Forcing a smile onto my lips, I push to stand, smoothing my skirt down.
“There’s a thigh strap in that box if you feel the need to go armed.”
“Huh,” I say, rolling the idea around my head.
“Em, you can’t—” Calli starts, but she soon realises she’s not quick enough because I slip the strap into place and tuck my sheathed knife into it.
My skirt is so short that no one will miss the fact I came… prepared. I smile to myself as I picture the horrified expression on Sloane’s perfect face.
Maybe she’ll take my words a little more seriously. Maybe not.
Taking a step forward, I take in my reflection. I hold my head a little higher at the image that stares back at me.
Oh hell yeah. Sloane and her little bitches can kiss my motherfucking arse.
With a flounce, I spin around, swipe the bottle we’ve been pouring shots from and tip it to my deep purple lips, swallowing what’s left and revelling in the burn down my throat.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
I grab my jacket from the bed and place my bag over my shoulder before marching out of the room with three sets of eyes burning into my back.
