Chapter 2
WEST
Leaning back against the small mountain of decorative pillows I’ve arranged into a little nest around me, I watch as McKenna does a fit check, showcasing one of her new dresses in the trifold mirror in her dressing area.
My body tightens with appreciation as she hits several poses, each one as sexy and practiced as the last, as she checks all her angles.
“What do you think?” she asks, still scrutinizing herself in the mirror.
“It’s incredible,” I say honestly. “Ten out of ten.”
“Is it better than the red one?”
“I wouldn’t say better, but I think it fits the vibe of the party better.”
She tosses me a flirty smile over her shoulder. “You think so?”
“Hell yeah.” I wave at the pile of shoes next to the mirror. “Which ones are you wearing tonight?”
She picks up a towering heel covered in tiny white jewels and a strappy black heel with long gold ribbon laces.
“It’s between these two.” She holds them against the shimmery black material of her dress. “Which do you like better?”
“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly. “The bejeweled one is saying ‘You think you can handle me? Think again,’ and the ribbon one is saying ‘Princess in the streets and goddess in the sheets.’”
“Bejeweled?” she asks, shooting me a flat look. “These are hand embellished with crystals, not covered in cheap rhinestones that have been glued on with contact cement.”
“My bad,” I say with a playful shrug. “You know me, I’m hopeless when it comes to fashion. I just know what looks good, not what it’s actually called.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you think of my new purse,” she says absently, lifting both shoes so she can look between them again.
I glance at the bag in question. Of all the things in McKenna’s latest fashion haul, the bag makes the least sense to me. The simple clutch is a black leather, half crescent-shaped seashell with a sparkly strap and gold accents.
I know it’s by one of her favorite designers, and it’s a limited release, so she’s one of only a handful of people on the planet who has that exact bag right now. Still, it’s kind of basic, and it’s giving me the biggest sense of déjà vu.
“I feel like it’s perfect because it’s unique enough to make a statement, but still subtle enough to make sure that you’re the main attraction and it’s just there to hold your stuff,” I say, choosing my words carefully.
She smiles, and I know I picked the right answer. Fashion is her area of expertise; I just wear what I think looks good instead of trying to follow trends.
“Are you sure you don’t mind if we have a girls’ night?” she asks as she carefully sits on the edge of the settee in the dressing area.
“Of course not,” I tell her as she slips the jeweled heels on. “You need time with your friends without me. I get it.”
She shoots me a look I can’t read and picks up the other shoe. “You’re not worried?”
“Why would I be worried?” I ask as she slips it on. “I trust you.”
“I know.” She stands and turns back to the mirror. “And I love that you do, but it’s kind of weird you don’t get jealous when I go out without you. It makes me wonder if you’re glad I’m not going to be around or something like that.”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, and I never know what to say when she brings this kind of thing up because it’s a red flag if I get jealous and try to control her, but then it’s also a red flag if I don’t get jealous and don’t try to control her.
It almost feels like I’m being set up to lose no matter what.
“I just want you to have fun,” I say once again, choosing my words carefully. “And you can’t do that if you have to spend your night worrying about me and my feelings, so I try not to make nights like tonight about me.”
There’s something off about her smile, but I try not to dwell on it as she fluffs up her perfect beach waves and leans closer to the mirror to check her makeup.
My eyes are drawn to her left hand and the 4-carat Dutch Marquis diamond ring on her finger as it sparkles under the soft light of her dressing area. It’s not the ring I would have chosen for her, but she loves it, and that’s all that matters.
“What are you going to get up to while I’m out?”
Her tone is casual, but in that careful way that tells me she’s fishing for information.
“Not sure,” I say honestly. “I might see if Damon is busy, but I’m kind of in hibernation mode, so I’ll probably watch a movie and gorge on snacks.”
She turns from the mirror again and raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “It’s Saturday night, and you’re going to watch a movie by yourself?”
This is also a conversation I’m used to having with her.
I’ve always been an extroverted introvert. I like to go out and have fun and party as much as the next person, but I have my limits, and I’m not a fan of going out every night.
McKenna is the opposite. She also has a serious case of chronic FOMO, so to her, staying in her room while all her friends are out is unfathomable, and she always gets suspicious when I spend my time alone.
But I know that trying to explain myself will just make things worse, so I just smile and give her a little shrug. “What can I say? I’m boring as fuck when you’re not around.”
She makes a soft humming sound that could mean anything, then slips the strap of her new purse over her shoulder. “Thoughts on the full look?”
I look her up and down as she turns to the side so I can see the perfect swells of her ass and breasts under the skintight dress. “Everything about it is perfection,” I tell her. “Ten out of ten, no notes.”
She really does look spectacular, and it’s not just her dress or the shoes. It’s true she has a banging body that she puts a lot of time and effort into maintaining, but she’s also confident and fun and has a sparkle that’s impossible to ignore.
She’s also a ballbuster who knows what she wants and goes after it. And she’s not shy about voicing her displeasure when things aren’t up to her standards, or when people try to tell her what to do.
It’s nice to not have to be the one who’s always making decisions or taking charge of every situation. I can just do what I’m told and go along for the ride.
Unfortunately it also means I tend to get ignored when I do have opinions on things or actually want to be part of the planning process, but that’s pretty much how things have always been for me, so I’m used to it.
A faint chime emanates from her phone.
“Time to head out?” I ask as she checks her notifications.
She nods and tucks her phone into her new shell purse.
A memory of my grandmother showing my mom a nearly identical purse when I was a kid hits out of nowhere, only instead of the sparkly strap, it had a thin black one.
That’s where I’ve seen it before.
“Is that a vintage bag?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“No, it’s from the new collection. I told you that earlier.” She gives me the same look I probably gave my nephew when he asked if lighting his shoes on fire would make him run faster.
“I mean vintage inspired,” I say quickly. “I couldn’t place it before, but it looks like one of the bags my grandma had when I was a kid.”
Her eyes narrow as she shoots me a flat look. “I highly doubt that. You must be remembering wrong.”
I have to physically bite my lip so I don’t say something stupid, like how her bag actually looks cheap compared to my grandmother’s. Sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble and says stuff my brain hasn’t consented to.
Thank fuck this isn’t one of those times.
“Yeah, probably,” I tell her as I get up off her bed.
I’m almost positive that my memories of my grandmother’s bag are real and I didn’t make a mistake, but this is one of those things it’s better to just let go than be right.
She smiles, but again, there’s something off about it, and she doesn’t say anything as we leave her room together.
We don’t talk at all as we take the elevator down to the main floor of Belmont House, and her friends are waiting for her near the entrance as we step into the lobby.
“Have fun,” I say as she waves excitedly to them.
She tosses me a quick smile over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the shiny marble floor as she hurries over to them. I continue toward the main door and try not to read into the fact that she didn’t kiss me goodbye.
Or about how this seems to be happening more often than not.
Back when we first got together, McKenna made a rule that we couldn’t go to bed angry at each other, and we always had to kiss goodbye.
The not going to bed angry rule really came in hand during those early days while we were still adjusting to going from friends to more.
We had our share of disagreements and stupid fights, but we always ironed everything out before we went to bed, and that stopped all those small things from becoming bigger issues later on.
But now it’s like we’re both going out of our way to not ruffle the other’s feathers, so while we’re not disagreeing or fighting, we’re also not really talking anymore. Not like we used to.
I do my best to shove that train of thought to the back of my head and pull my phone out of my pocket as I head toward Romeo House.
I don’t want to think about any of this right now. I need a break from thinking.
I pull up my text thread with Damon and send him a quick message.
West: what are you doing tonight?
My screen goes dark without him reading my text, but that’s not exactly surprising. Damon is my best friend, and I love him like a brother, but he sucks at answering texts or DMs.
And that was before he got a boyfriend. Now it’s nearly impossible to get hold of him unless I track him down and have a face-to-face conversation with him.
My cheeks flush hot, and I shove my phone back in my pocket as I pick up my pace.
The night I found out that my best friend was in a secret relationship with a guy was one of the most awkward and confusing moments of my life.