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“Brianna has been on a mission to get shit-faced all day. She needs it if she’s going to keep going,” Jodie teases.
“Speak for yourself,” I mutter, dumping the cups down on the table and quickly plucking mine and Calli’s from the tray. “But I know a good way to give these a kick. Here you go, baby C,” I announce happily, delivering her decaf as I pass her in favour of the kitchen. Reaching up into the cupboard, I pull down a bottle of Toby’s whisky and twist off the top.
“Bri,” Jodie warns.
I don’t react and certainly don’t look up, because I know exactly what I’ll find.
Concern.
I love her like the sister I never had. But I’m sick of that look. It’s why I need to go home.
I need my own space to sulk about my stupid decisions and life choices.
“Trust me, Jojo. You’d be doing the same thing if the situation were reversed.”
“Well, I guess if you get wasted, you might spill the details.”
“What details?” Emmie asks, immediately taking the bait.
I shoot my best friend the best death glare I can dig up while all eyes in the room burn into my skin.
“There’s nothing to spill. Just a momentary lapse in judgement.”
“Just those few minutes or every time you’ve been close to him?” she asks.
“What the fuck, Jojo?” I hiss, my irritation levels growing. And her shrugging in response doesn’t help.
“You need to stop this,” she says finally.
“Stop what?” I slosh a very generous amount of alcohol into my coffee, to the point it almost overspills on Toby’s granite counter.
“Stop running away from the truth. From what you really feel.”
“Oh? And what is it that I really feel? Seeing as you seem to be an expert.”
“What’s Nico done?” Calli asks, correctly guessing that this little spat involves him.
“It doesn’t matter what he’s done. Which, incidentally, was hot as fuck, by the way.”
Calli groans as Stella and Emmie get even more interested.
“We’re listening,” Stella says, leaning over the back of the sofa.
“What matters is Brianna trying to live with her head buried under a rock.”
“Being sensible isn’t living under a rock.”
“Getting fucked in a fitting room is not being sensible.”
“I think that’s open to opinions,” Stella quips.
“You fucked Nico in a fitting room?” Emmie blurts, a wide, salacious grin across her face.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Technically, no.”
“Did you or did you not get off?” Stella asks.
“Jesus,” Calli mutters, clearly not requiring this level of detail. Thought she’d be used to it by now.
