worse. It won’t make you feel any better about Sean." She shook her head, and I guess that's when she caught the sight of the bags piled up by my far wall. "Chanel? Oh. My. God. He bought you things? From Chanel ?" Hopping up, she darted over to the bags, digging through them and gasping. "Please tell me you screwed him?"
"What? No!" I feigned disgust at the idea of it, even though I would have, had he only let me.
Layla released a disappointed sigh. "I can’t believe this. I can't even live vicariously through you." She folded the shirt she had bunched up in her hands and tossed it back into the bag. “This is real? You went out with my favorite celebrity. Although I want to kill you, I guess I can’t.” A devious smirk washed across her face and she wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Want to know why?”
My mind was still processing the fact that I had already gotten myself into a pile of shit. I was not suited, prepared, or mentally stable enough to be hurdled into the lifestyle that accompanied Jag, but I already felt hooked, trapped by my attraction to him, by my fascination and morbid curiosity of who he really was deep down.
“God only knows with you, Layla.”
She giggled and pulled her feet up on the couch as a proud grin formed on her face. “I fucked his brother!”
“What? You…Stone?” I felt my brow furrow. “You fucked Stone Steele?”
Totally confused on how, not really why, but how and when that had happened, I held my head and massaged my temples. “What?” I said again.
She nodded slowly and reassuringly, a glaze coating her eyes as she reminisced about it.
“When?”
“Last night. At a party I went to with Mallory.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Layla.”
“God, he is so hot. Best sex ever. Hands down. Unbelievable.” She popped the gum she had in her mouth, still smiling, and her eyes lighting up even more when she gloated, “And he has a huge cock. I bet that shit runs in the family, you should definitely check on that stat, Rox.” Another giddy, girlish giggle floated from her throat.
Although I was tempted to announce that I had already discovered just how well-endowed Jag was, I kept my mouth shut. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be sure to do that at some point.”
“What are the chances that both of us hooked up with Pandemic Sorrow? That is pretty amazing!”
I snarled my lip. “Uh, statistically speaking, it’s not that impressive. There’s been plenty of girls over the years that can claim that. And I’m not exactly ‘hooking up’ with him.”
Layla continued to rummage through my bags, pulling out things and gushing over them. The moment she found the receipt, her mouth dropped. “Holy fucking shit! Roxy, six- thousand dollars?” she screeched. Her bulging eyes darted up to mine. “Six-thousand-motherfucking-dollars?” Cupping her mouth with her hand, she muttered out a garbled, “He…likes you.”
Her hand fell from her face and her brow wrinkled. “He likes you!”
I shook my head, trying to downplay her revelation; but really, I was just trying to convince myself she was being ridiculous, because why would someone like him like someone like me. I was just entertaining to him, something a little different.
Someone like him? Since when did Jag Steele become a “someone like him”? Oh, this is bad.
“No, Layla. He just has a shit ton of money. That six-thousand dollars is probably not any different than you buying a homeless guy some cheap sandwich.”
“Whatever. I’m so jealous of you right now.”
She continued to ramble on about Jag and Stone, about how ironic this all was, about fate and how none of this would have happened had I not been such a bitch to him at the meet and greet all those weeks ago.
My brain couldn’t keep up with her incessant chatter because all I could think about was Jag. Moments after Layla had finally fallen silent, my phone chimed.
Leaning over to the side table, I picked it up and read the text. I had yet to save his
"What? No!" I feigned disgust at the idea of it, even though I would have, had he only let me.
Layla released a disappointed sigh. "I can’t believe this. I can't even live vicariously through you." She folded the shirt she had bunched up in her hands and tossed it back into the bag. “This is real? You went out with my favorite celebrity. Although I want to kill you, I guess I can’t.” A devious smirk washed across her face and she wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Want to know why?”
My mind was still processing the fact that I had already gotten myself into a pile of shit. I was not suited, prepared, or mentally stable enough to be hurdled into the lifestyle that accompanied Jag, but I already felt hooked, trapped by my attraction to him, by my fascination and morbid curiosity of who he really was deep down.
“God only knows with you, Layla.”
She giggled and pulled her feet up on the couch as a proud grin formed on her face. “I fucked his brother!”
“What? You…Stone?” I felt my brow furrow. “You fucked Stone Steele?”
Totally confused on how, not really why, but how and when that had happened, I held my head and massaged my temples. “What?” I said again.
She nodded slowly and reassuringly, a glaze coating her eyes as she reminisced about it.
“When?”
“Last night. At a party I went to with Mallory.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Layla.”
“God, he is so hot. Best sex ever. Hands down. Unbelievable.” She popped the gum she had in her mouth, still smiling, and her eyes lighting up even more when she gloated, “And he has a huge cock. I bet that shit runs in the family, you should definitely check on that stat, Rox.” Another giddy, girlish giggle floated from her throat.
Although I was tempted to announce that I had already discovered just how well-endowed Jag was, I kept my mouth shut. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be sure to do that at some point.”
“What are the chances that both of us hooked up with Pandemic Sorrow? That is pretty amazing!”
I snarled my lip. “Uh, statistically speaking, it’s not that impressive. There’s been plenty of girls over the years that can claim that. And I’m not exactly ‘hooking up’ with him.”
Layla continued to rummage through my bags, pulling out things and gushing over them. The moment she found the receipt, her mouth dropped. “Holy fucking shit! Roxy, six- thousand dollars?” she screeched. Her bulging eyes darted up to mine. “Six-thousand-motherfucking-dollars?” Cupping her mouth with her hand, she muttered out a garbled, “He…likes you.”
Her hand fell from her face and her brow wrinkled. “He likes you!”
I shook my head, trying to downplay her revelation; but really, I was just trying to convince myself she was being ridiculous, because why would someone like him like someone like me. I was just entertaining to him, something a little different.
Someone like him? Since when did Jag Steele become a “someone like him”? Oh, this is bad.
“No, Layla. He just has a shit ton of money. That six-thousand dollars is probably not any different than you buying a homeless guy some cheap sandwich.”
“Whatever. I’m so jealous of you right now.”
She continued to ramble on about Jag and Stone, about how ironic this all was, about fate and how none of this would have happened had I not been such a bitch to him at the meet and greet all those weeks ago.
My brain couldn’t keep up with her incessant chatter because all I could think about was Jag. Moments after Layla had finally fallen silent, my phone chimed.
Leaning over to the side table, I picked it up and read the text. I had yet to save his
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