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“Dammit, Willow. What the hell did you order this time? This box is as big as our television.”
I frowned as I dumped everything into the sink. I hadn’t ordered anything. Sometimes I got items from companies looking for reviews, but I wasn’t sponsored.
Yet.
It was one of my secret goals.
Also, I also had a PO Box for anything that was sent to me unsolicited. I didn’t give out my address toanyone.
I rushed to the front vestibule. Dennelle wasn’t kidding.
“Well, don’t give me those stupid big eyes. It only works on idiot men. Help me.”
She was such a delight.
Hurriedly, I lifted the other end of the box. We shuffled our way into the living room before she dropped her end.
Something inside shifted and made a loud clunk.
Dennelle stepped over the box, her icepick heels landing an inch away from my foot. “That better not take up more room in the kitchen. It’s already full to the brim with all your shit.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Yeah, well, it says your name, doesn’t it?” She shook her platinum blond hair out of her face so it fell in the severe straight lines that framed her glacial cheekbones and pointy chin. Elsa had nothing on her ice queen look.
Self-consciously, I pushed at my sagging bun. I always felt extra frumpy around her. My hair was about as tamable as my mouth. Most of the time, I liked that it was wild, but the minute this woman was in my space, I couldn’t help but notice our extreme differences.
Her flawless, pale skin—my endless freckles. Her suit, my embroidered jeans and bare feet.
I must have been extra bohemian today since her forehead dared to wrinkle with her sneer. “Are you ever going to grow up?”
My eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“You look like a twelve-year-old who got her clothes from the thrift shop.”
My jeans were actually hand-stitched by an artist and probably cost as much as one of her Louboutins. Not the pair—I wasn’tthatextra with my clothes. Though I was pretty extra if you asked my sister.
I frowned. Speaking of my sister, maybe she sent the box. “What’s today’s date?”
Dennelle rolled her eyes. “I rest my case.”
“I work for myself. Days have no meaning.”
Dennelle snorted.
“But I still pay my rent and utilities, unlike you did for a few months last year.”
She flushed. “I was deciding between firms.”
I gave her a flat smile. And okay, it had been a very shaky thing to make rent before I’d discovered the joys of social media creator funds. Happy hail Mary pass for the win.
Not that I really knew what a hail Mary pass was, but it sounded good. And there had been many prayers, tears, and deals made with various deities as I learned the online ropes.
Dennelle gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re having one of those conversations in your head again, aren’t you?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes—barely. “Look, I’ll make sure to take care of the box, okay?”
“Whatever.” She glanced into the kitchen. “And clean that up,” she added as she flounced.
