Paisley:I can’t believe you hired an escort to go to the engagement party. How desperate can you get?
Bianca:give it a rest
Angela:I have one piece of advice for you: grow the fuck up! Don’t act like Josh is some kind of prize.
Natasha:he’s a stripper, not an escort
Paisley:How much did you pay him to eat your kitty in the car?
Natasha:Not a damn cent! I don’t have to pay or trick anyone into doing anything with me. Unlike you…Congrats on the baby, by the way!!!
Bianca:Wait? You’re pregnant?
Oh, this is getting good.
Natasha:it’s how she got Josh to leave me
Paisley:Stop lying to make yourself feel better.
I pocket my phone and decide to get the walk of shame out to my car over with.
Toxic is waiting for me outside the door, holding a bag with all my things.
A part of me wants to slap the smile off his stupid, chiseled jawline.
A smaller, stupider part of me wants to kiss him.
“It was, ah, nice unclogging your pipes,” he says, his cheeks tinting with color.
A shy Hunk. How cute.
I grab my bag and try to think of what to say, but words fail me, so I dart past and rush off of the bus.
As I walk across the parking lot, I hear a gasp. “Samantha?”
Panic floods me as I look up to see who’s just called my name.
It’s Natasha, who is still wearing the bustier she was in last night.
Shit!
I caused this, and probably deserve it, but that doesn’t mean I want to be the subject of endless catty gossip.
Working in PR has given me a mind for fixing problems, and this is a very big problem. So I put my skills to use.
I pull out my phone and send a text to the group chat, hoping to buy some goodwill with the woman I just epically screwed over.
Samantha:Natasha: 1 / Paisley: 0
ONE
Samantha
Present Day
It’s just not possible.
I press my eyes closed, trying to will myself into a different state of consciousness. Perhaps an out-of-body experience.
