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“It’s hard for me to even think of Logan in any way besides a brother figure. Him and Ash are douches, you know. This side of him that you see, I can’t even imagine it.”
I can’t hide my smile. “When we’re alone there’s this spark. Like we’re battling but it’s a good battle. Does that make sense?”
Tayla frowns, pulling her hair out of the bun that sits on top of her head, only to place it in a bun again. “Ah, not really. Like a sex battle?”
“Sometimes.” I chuckle softly.
“La, la, la, la,” she sings, pressing against her ears. “Are you done with the sex talk?”
I roll my eyes at her, blowing my nose at the same time. “There was no sex talk.”
“Listen…” she shuffles to her side, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight, “… we’ve got a ton of new dresses and shoes. Let’s go out tonight and pretend Logan and Wesley don’t exist. Just a girls’ night out with dancing and no drinks, at least for me. You can get wasted if you want.” She laughs.
“You know what?” I smile through my tears. “It sounds like the perfect plan.”
***
After talking with Scarlett, she hooks us up with a party, but it’s all the way in Orange County. We arrive late to find the party’s in full swing and hosted by a popular DJ who frequents celebrity hot spots.
The house is a mansion. All white with glass windows everywhere you look. It sits on the beach, surrounded by a massive garden with an Olympic-sized pool.
I’ve never seen Tayla so excited with her cell in hand Snapchatting the whole night. She tried to explain to me how it works, but I was only half-listening, eager to unwind and get my hands on the blue cocktails the waiters are handing out. With a cocktail in hand, I quickly remind her to stick by me and no drinking whatsoever. It’s somewhere into my second cocktail that a familiar voice calls my name.
Farrah.
“Oh my God... look who it is. Without Wesley, of course.”
She kisses my cheek—a kiss of death.
She reeks of perfume and plastic, dressed in a skimpy strapless red dress that makes her tits look like watermelons. Her body’s drowning in jewels with well over a million dollars draped around her neck.
“Wesley’s in Cabo.”
“I think he may have mentioned it.” Her normally confident manner is slightly off. Her fingers nervously fidgeting with her necklace. “So, you’re here... alone? No man to keep you warm?”
“My sister, Tayla,” I briefly introduce them and notice Tayla already has on her resting bitch face. I know she doesn’t like Farrah, after all not that many people do.
“Right. Nice to meet you. You’ll have to excuse me, I have people to mingle with.”
I’m glad she leaves us alone, walking away to another crowd desperate for her presence—making her the center of attention.
We hang out near the front lawn where the marquee’s set up and beats blast through the massive speakers. Losing ourselves to the music, we dance for a long time, letting loose and feeling free. My purse is hung across my body and begins to vibrate against my hip. I pull out my cell while trying to sway my body, to see missed calls from Logan.
Ignore.
Ignore.
Ignore.
There’s a group of guys and girls beside us who look about Tayla’s age. One guy, in particular, takes to Tayla and begins dancing with her. To prove I’m not at all like Mom, I let her move away and dance with him while I continue to dance with a very handsome older man who happens to be near me. He’s kinda sexy and reminds me of McDreamy from Gray’s Anatomy—a silver fox with ripped muscles and a cocky grin.
My purse continues to vibrate.
Ignore.
Ignore.
Ignore.
