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“Taryn better fuck off. I’m really going to lose my shit. I have not liked him for three years for her to swoop in and steal him at the finish line,” Chloe whispers angrily.
“Blake won’t like her,” I whisper. “Henley will like her. I just know it.”
“We need to take this bitch down.”
Knock, knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
Rebecca opens the door, “Hi.” She smiles. Her face falls when she sees Chloe. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
“No, no, come in. This is my girlfriend Chloe.”
“Hi, Rebecca.” Chloe smiles.
“Umm . . .” Rebecca looks between us and then closes the door behind her. “Have you seen that idiot on roller skates?”
“I’m going to throw some ball bearings on the road so she falls ass over tit.” Chloe rolls her eyes.
Rebecca sits down nervously, and I get the feeling something is wrong. “Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “So . . .” She pauses as if choosing her wording carefully. “If I needed a confidential, unbiased female opinion on something in my house, could you two keep a secret?”
Chloe and I exchange glances. “Yeah.” We shrug.
“You promise you won’t tell anyone? It’s just that . . .” She pauses again. “We moved interstate to live here five years ago, and I’m so busy working that I haven’t made any friends. Well, I do have friends,” she explains. “But they are all couple friends, if you know what I mean. Like . . . I can’t trust them with a secret.”
“Of course. What’s going on?”
“I need to show you something.” She stands. “It’s at my house.”
“What?” I frown.
“Come on.” She walks out, and we follow her past the roller-skating idiot and the sidewalk perverts.
“I swear to god, if she makes a move on him, it’s go time,” Chloe huffs as she watches Blake talk to Taryn. “This street is like fucking Tinder on crack.”
“Who are we talking about?” Rebecca frowns.
Chloe hesitates.
“Hey, I’m about to show you something that you promised not to tell. Your secret is safe with me.”
Chloe exhales. “I have a thing for Blake Grayson.”
Rebecca smiles as she marches across the lawn in front of us. “Who doesn’t.”
“I know, it’s so annoying,” Chloe huffs. “I wish he were ugly.”
“Then you probably wouldn’t like him,” I reply.
Rebecca walks us up the stairs to her front porch and into the house. She flicks the dead bolt on the front door behind us.
I frown. “What’s going on?”
“So . . .” She pauses. “This is so random, and I feel I might be going crazy, and I hope you are going to tell me this is all in my head.”
“Right . . .” Chloe frowns. “Go on.”
