Chapter 10
ANNALISE
My mouth is dry. I swirl my tongue and lick the inside of my cheeks, the lingering taste of alcohol turning my stomach. A pulse beats between my brows, so I keep my eyes closed, too scared to open them. My eyelids are sticky, and my mind is groggy, heavy with exhaustion.
I sift through my memories of last night and try to piece together what happened.
From my current state, I must have drunk a lot more than I planned to.
The last solid memory I have is sitting at the table with Bryce and Poppy while they tried to calm me down after my one-on-one run-in with Brody fucking Steele.
Even just the slightest remembrance of that conversation intensifies the pain in my head.
I don’t have a lot of experience meeting celebrities, but now I’m positive that I don’t want to ever meet another one.
Not if they’re going to stomp all over my minuscule expectations of them by being such total assholes!
I don’t even know why he took such a strong dislike to me so suddenly.
Poppy and Bryce assured me that he’s a nice guy, but I couldn’t disagree more.
With that thought, I finally peel my eyelids open and squint at the beaming sunlight shining directly onto my bed. Groaning, I lift a hand to my face and shield my eyes.
“You’re awake!” Poppy’s voice ricochets through my skull.
“What gave me away?”
“The groaning. You sounded like an angry bull.”
I blow out a laugh and grip the blanket at my chest, turning onto my side. My first look at Poppy takes me aback. “How long have you been awake?”
“A couple of hours. There’s coffee and bagels in the kitchen.” She’s dressed in workout clothes, her hair tied back and cheeks flushed. Blue eyes bright and soft, she stares at me, assessing. “How are you feeling?”
“Like roadkill. How do you look so good? Did you work out ?”
“Yep. Both you and Bryce were dead to the world when I woke up, and after last night, I figured you both needed the extra sleep. How much do you remember?”
By the slight twist of her mouth as she shifts her weight back and forth on her feet, almost like she’s holding herself back from blurting out what happened, I can tell it probably wasn’t anything good.
“Nothing. Explain it all to me, please.”
Loud, uneven footsteps sound before Bryce appears beside Poppy. She looks about as great as I feel. Bags heavy beneath her eyes, skin pale, and hair stuck up in every which way, she’s the picture of hungover. I don’t even want to know how I look right now.
“I’m going to guess and say it has to do with why I have pink paint beneath my nails?” she asks, examining her hands.
Alarmed, I bring mine in front of my face and gawk at the pink crusted beneath my short nails. Poppy has the nerve to giggle at our reactions.
“It was Bryce’s idea,” she tells us.
“What was?” I stammer.
Bryce is grimacing now, her face somehow becoming paler. “Tell me we didn’t.”
My eyes flick between the two of them, anxiousness swelling in my stomach. “If one of you doesn’t tell me what we did right now, I’ll kick you out in the snow.”
“This is all you, Ice,” Poppy urges her best friend. The nickname is new to me, and I make sure to make note of it.
Bryce hides her face behind her hands and sighs. “We went to Vic’s, didn’t we? Her favourite colour is pink.”
“Oh, we went to Vic’s alright. After the both of you got ten shots of tequila deep and demanded we leave the bar.
The moment we stepped outside, you started ranting about Vic and explained to Anna here about what happened between you.
Then, we spent a solid half hour painting pink dicks all over her front fence before the devil herself nearly caught us,” Poppy explains, face red with the effort it’s taking her not to laugh.
I roll my lips and blink slowly, trying to pry open my memories in search of what happened, but I come up empty. Maybe that’s a good thing.
“Fuck my life,” Bryce mutters. She drags herself to my bed and throws herself onto her back, the mattress shifting with her weight. “She’s going to try to ruin my life now.”
I sit up and stare at the top of her head. “I hate to say this, but I don’t remember anything about Vic or what we did last night. I’m sorry.”
“Long story short, Vic tried to bring a third person into their relationship, and when Bryce said she wasn’t comfortable with that, she dumped her on the curb and dated him instead.
The first time Bryce saw them together, she kicked the guy hard enough in the crotch that she cracked his dick like a glowstick.
She spent the night in a jail cell until I came and got her.
Luckily, Vic had the decency to feel guilty enough to convince him not to press charges,” Poppy explains.
“I’d say the pink dicks were only fitting, then,” I declare.
Bryce tilts her head back and gives me a half-smile, pushing her fingers through her knotted hair. “I’m scared to turn my phone on. If she saw it were us, there’s no telling what she’ll do now.”
“This is karma, babes,” Poppy says.
I nod. “This isn’t any worse than what I did to Stewart’s things after I found him cheating. If anything, this is less evil.”
Poppy leans her shoulder against the door frame. “This isn’t all that out of character for you either. No offense, but you’re not a terribly sweet person.”
“That’s not exactly true. I can be sweet,” Bryce corrects her.
“You can, just not to many people. There’s nothing wrong with that, B.
I just don’t want you to start thinking poorly of yourself because of something you did not only just out of anger and hurt but under the influence of tequila, of all things.
What’s done is done, and if I’m being honest, that little witch deserved it,” Poppy explains.
The adoration heavy in her words, despite the seriousness of the conversation, makes my chest warm.
I had this same support from Braxton, but I’ve never had friends like Bryce and Poppy.
Having someone who isn’t family that chooses to love you in the same way is an experience I haven’t had in my life yet.
I’ve had friends in the past, but none that clicked the way the three of us have over the past few days. This friendship makes me hopeful that Cherry Peak really could be my new home. A real one and not just a passing blip on a map.
“You’re worth more than what she did to you,” I tell Bryce.
She nods appreciatively, some of the shadows in her features disappearing. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Alright, it’s time for you two to eat. Get dressed and come have the bagels I braved the cold this morning to get for you. You need something to soak up all that booze,” Poppy says a beat later.
Without another word, she turns on her heel and heads for the kitchen. Bryce laughs, flashing me a final smile before pushing herself off the bed and following our friend.
“Toothbrushes are in the bottom drawer in the guest bath!” I shout, getting a thank you in return.
Once I’m alone again, I heave a sigh and reach for my phone on my nightstand.
The stretch along my side as I bend is tight, and I mentally curse Poppy for the soreness in my muscles a couple of days after my first pole class. I could hardly move yesterday, and it’s only gotten worse.
My stomach threatens to shoot through my throat when I swipe along the notifications on my phone and spot the newest text message. Terror spikes.
Bo: Good morning.
Bo: Sorry I didn’t answer you last night, my phone was off.
As I open the conversation, my cheeks burn like they’ve been lit on fire. Fuck. My. Life.
Me: Hi. I know we said 1 night but I changed mi mind.
Me: Sorry that was weiiiiird to say
Me: Are u sleeping? Do u wear ur boots to bed?
Me: I don’t. Anyway idk y I wanted to talk 2 u, but I do
Me: Srry I’m being weird. G2G! xo
There isn’t a reply from him until the two from five o’clock this morning, three hours after I sent my final embarrassing text.
I don’t know why I opted to message him, of all people, but maybe it’s because of what happened with Brody.
The encounter that’s solely responsible for this headache and dry mouth.
I barely know the guy, and he’s already enemy number one in this small town. If he were more like Bo, maybe we would have gotten off on a better foot. God, what am I talking about? I don’t even know this Bo guy either.
They should both be completely off limits. No more interesting text convos or butting heads at crowded bars. But then again, where would be the fun in that?
I stare at the screen for an embarrassingly long time before typing out a message and forcing myself to send it.
Me: I’m shocked you didn’t block me.
When there’s no answer after a couple of minutes of me staring at the screen, I toss the phone onto the bed and slide out from beneath the blankets. The carpet is a shaggy type of material, and while I hate vacuuming it, it does beat setting my feet on a cold wood flooring in the morning.
I have a quick shower—scrubbing at my nails until the pink disappears—and get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt before grabbing my phone and joining the women in the kitchen.
Bryce hasn’t showered, but she looks a bit more refreshed as she chomps on a bagel, a to-go cup of coffee on the kitchen table in front of her.
Poppy notices me first and slides the unclaimed cup of coffee across the table to where an empty chair sits.
Like all of the furniture in this place, the dining table and chairs came included in the rent.
I got lucky when it came to finding this place.
It’s not like I had any furniture after I left Stewart.
I had sold all of my own furniture back when I gave up my apartment to move in with him.
“What are the odds that you could fit me in for a hair colour this week?” Poppy asks, sipping from her own drink.
I slide into the empty chair and wrap my hands around the warm cup before taking a test drink from it. The coffee is warm but not hot and sweet enough without being too much for my sensitive stomach.
“Probably pretty high. I’ve mostly been doing walk-ins since I started. What are you wanting?”
“Something that she’ll hate in a week and demand you change back,” Bryce teases. It’s nice to see her eyes bright again.
“Don’t pick on me,” Poppy chastises her and then says to me, “I just want some new highlights.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I say, “Let me know when you’re thinking, and I’ll make it work.”
Her grin is blinding. “Will do.”
The conversation dulls before Bryce switches gears and brings up an idea she has for the pole studio. I let them talk and grab my phone, reading the message on the screen.
Bo: Maybe I should have, but I didn’t want to. How’s your head this morning?
Me: Angry, but I’ll live. I’m sorry again. I don’t know why I texted you.
When his reply comes back right away, I fight back a smile.
Bo: I’m not complaining about it.
Flicking my eyes up at the women at my table, I’m grateful to find that they’re still talking amongst themselves and not paying me or my totally weird smile any attention.
I might like texting Bo, but I’m not about to explain anything more to them than I’ve already shared. It’s hard to explain something you don’t even understand yourself.
For now, he gets to be my little secret.