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But now she was expected to deal with drama central?
Fuck me running.
She ducked her head out. “Let me grab a quick shower and we can go.”
West gave her a distracted wave. He was already on his phone texting. Or…
“If you Snap about this room, I’ll kick your ass.”
West grinned at her. “This house is Snapchat-worthy in the extreme.”
“As long as it’s not my ass in the frame.”
“Your ass is seriously fine, but you’re not going to be compromised today. As for last night, I can’t make any promises.”
Her fingers gripped the door jamb. Her chest tightened and the nape of her neck prickled. “What?”
“Lots of cameras here last night.”
“I thought it was a private ceremony.”
“Like anything can be private when the bride’s sister is the queen of media. Cameras follow Ava Templeton everywhere.”
She crossed her arms. “Yeah, but I thought we pretty much had a lid on paparazzi.”
As much as any public faction ever did. Welcome to celebrity. She still hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around it.
West stopped tapping on his screen. “Something you should be worried about?”
“No.”
Except that I left the party with two different men. Nothing big.
Of course it had been late.
Their trip through the garden hadn’t been that late. It hadn’t been early by any means, but the party had still been going on when she’d followed Tris and Sparks down the proverbial primrose path.
She swallowed.
Surely there weren’t any pictures.
West shrugged. “I left pretty early. Skater chick in the food line led me astray.”
“I just bet.”
He slid down to sit correctly in the chair. Well, sort of. He sat cross-legged, tucking his feet into a yoga pose. “She was limber on and off her board.”
“Spare me the details.” She grabbed her weekender and shut the bathroom door behind her.
“She had this tattoo on her…foot.”
“I hate you,” she shouted. She drowned out his laughter with the shower. She soaped up the exfoliating mitt she took with her everywhere. She was used to showers in hotels and busses. Creature comforts kept her sane, especially when she’d also changed addresses six times already this year.
Her go-bag was the only thing that never changed in her life. And because the other women in the band were the bane of her existence with their super long bathroom routines, she could take a seven-minute shower.
This time, she made it six, since drama called. She didn’t bother washing her hair again, just tossed it up in a messy bun.
She hadn’t really brought any clothes for practice, but made do with jeans and a tank. Her hand paused over her bag when she found Tristan’s undershirt mixed in with her clothes.
