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“Stop pouting and tell him to come around eight.”
I glare at her. “I’m not pouting.”
She cuts her eyes at me. “Bitch, please.”
Ugh. Pulling my phone out of my bag, I send a text to Ryan letting him know, going forward, email will be our main contact unless it is an emergency. After screen shooting it, I send it to my lovely boyfriend and remind him about dinner. Tossing my phone on the coffee table, I get up and head to my room. I need to change before I start cooking, since the only thing India helps with is basically nothing. As I walk in my bedroom, I remember I forgot to put the chicken in the crock-pot earlier, I’ll have to throw it in the pressure cooker while I cook the ground beef.
Trading my jeans for my new unicorn leggings I found last week, and throwing on a new t-shirt, I head back out to the living room. India is no longer on the couch and is lighting candles.
“You know this isn’t supposed to be a romantic evening, right?” I ask her smiling.
She shrugs but looks stressed. “So, who is he bringing again?”
“Cam and probably Ash.” I watch her closely. “Why?”
This is so odd; my best friend is usually carefree and full of fun. She never gets distressed or in a bad mood.
She bites down on her bottom lip. “So, remember the night when you got roofied at that party?” I nod. “Okay, so Cam took me home and-“
“Oh my God, you had sex with Cam?” My mouth drops, and I quickly recover. “I mean, um, so.” I can’t even get my words together.
Indi rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t. We made out.”
She seems very bothered by this. “And that’s a bad thing?”
She gives me a look and frowns. “Like, we talked most of the night and made out. Like, it was so-”
Smiling, I cut her off. “You like him.”
India glares at me. “See, this is why I shouldn’t have said anything. No, I don’t like him.”
“You like him,” I sing. “You want to kiss him and hold him.”
“Shut up Miss Congeniality.” She pushes pass me. “I don’t like him, it’s just, I don’t do those things, and now I see him all the time. He wants to take me out.”
I follow her into the kitchen, where she is pulling out the veggies for the tacos out of the fridge. “Would it be so bad to go on one date?” I ask her. “You go on them all the time.”
Pulling out a knife, she slams it on the counter. “With the intent to go back to their place and fuck, Bliss. Not get to know them.” Her accent drops and we’re both quiet for a moment.
I want to ask about her accent, why does she do it? She doesn’t need to hide it from me, but she is hiding something. India doesn’t get close to anyone except me and there are even things I have no idea about. Like how she barely talks about her family or where she is really from. It’s crazy what you realize after years of friendship.
Before I can say anything, we hear the front door open and close. “Bitches, I’m here, time for shots!” Patrick yells.
I give her a look that says we’ll talk later, because I doubt Patrick knows, he would give her shit. She nods once and puts a smile on before he walks in.
By the time Cuba and Cam show up, we’re all already five shots and three margaritas in. And everyone knows I’m a lightweight, I’ll never be able to hold my liquor. Luckily for Cuba, I wasn’t too tipsy and made his plate for him. Making my own plate of tacos, I sit next to him at the table with Patrick, Cam, and India. The guys declined Patrick’s offer for drinks, since the season has started, and even declined when India pulled out my marijuana vapor pen.
“Where’s Ash?” I ask before taking a bite of my taco.
Cuba wipes his mouth. “Hell, if I know.”
He seems to be in a better mood, and he hasn’t brought up the text I sent him earlier. I can only hope that he’s happy and we can move past it. I’ve caught Cam sneaking glances across the table at India, but she is skillfully avoiding him by talking to Patrick who is next to her. Cam sees me, and winks and I just shake my head.
“He’s probably with some groupie.” Cam throws his bunched-up napkin on his empty plate. “This was good, ladies. He missed out.
Standing, I grab Cam and Cuba’s empty plates to take to the kitchen. Cuba gets up, picking up their glasses and follows me. Setting the plates in the sink, I turn to grab the glasses from Cuba, but he sets them on the counter next to the sink.
“Arrow,” he says as he backs me up against the edge of the counter. “I’m sorry about what I said about Dex, it was a low blow.”
