I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I don’t feel hot. I feel cold.”
Laughter bubbled out of her, loud and infectious. “Where’s your lovey?”
My grin turned tight, “Are you talking about my trademark scarf?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” her expression was innocent and condescending all at the same time. I rolled my eyes again and she batted her electric blue lined green eyes at me. “I hardly recognized you with so much skin exposed.”
My hand fluttered to my neck self-consciously. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking maybe it’s time for a change? Maybe I should branch out a little bit.” I finished with a little more confidence than I started with, but at least I almost believed myself by the end of it.
“Does this mean shopping?” Britte’s already supersized eyes grew larger and her dark lashes swept up so that they nearly brushed her dark eyebrows.
“No,” I shook my head quickly. “Definitely not.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’m in serious financial woes, B. I can’t afford to go shopping now, or later or anytime this decade.” I pushed forward, out of the doorway and toward a table in the corner. I couldn’t have anyone over hearing this. I loved my brothers dearly, but it honestly felt like they had spies everywhere. Once, in an emergency, I asked the girl in the stall next to me if she had a tampon I could borrow and later that night Beckett texted to congratulate me on not being pregnant.
“Oh no,” Britte gasped, following behind me. “Tara the Terror still hasn’t paid her share of the rent?”
I ducked under a campus promotional poster that swung precariously from one piece of sticky tack and plopped down into my chair. We were a bit more isolated away from the snack counter/barista station. Most of the influx of students hung out near the cash register or at the full wall length bar that faced out floor to ceiling glass windows and the courtyard I just walked through. We had privacy from any eavesdroppers but also Fin wouldn’t likely catch sight of me if he happened to walk this way either.
“Tara theTraitorhas donea lot morethan refuse to come up with the last two months of rent,” I growled.
Britte sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chomped down on it. She brushed her full dark mane of hair over her shoulder and reached out a super-tanned-for-Wisconsin-at-the-end-of-winter hand to pat mine comfortingly. “Tell me.”
And so I did.
Britte’s mouth kind of hung unhinged during and after my story. She didn’t make a sound for several minutes; she just kept staring at me. I eventually dropped my head into my hands and groaned. This was as bad as I thought it was. Somehow I convinced myself that this wasn’tsobad, that I wasn’t intoomuch trouble.
But the look on Britte’s face proved otherwise.
“Ellie!” she finally shrieked. “What are you going to do?”
I winced, “I don’t know!”
“You have to go to the cops, youhaveto!”
“Britte, I can’t,” I quickly shook my head, my more-wild-than-usual hair flying around my face. “I mean, I can. And I’ve thought about it. But do you know what my family will do to me if this comes out? My parents will freak. My brothers will go insane. They’ll probably make me move in with Grayson and then I’ll have no social life, no love life and no freedom whatsoever!” I laid it out for her, ticking it off with raised fingers.
Her huge moss green eyes grew impossibly bigger and understanding dawned on her. Britte and I met last year at spring orientation when we were both transfers. We became almost inseparable from day one, so she had plenty of opportunity to get to know the Harris family. Although it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out how overprotective they were of me, theirdarling baby girl.
And with two older brothers roaming the campus constantly, she had also seen their domineering behavior in action on more than one occasion.
Especiallyafter Colton dumped me.
Part of my two week seclusion was embarrassment, not only for being cheated on, but for what they did to the poor guy afterwards.
Ok, not poor guy. I had to stop feeling sorry for him!
“So you’re just going to let Tara the Terrible get away with this?” Britte demanded, folding her arms across her chest.
“No!” I immediately responded. “Well, maybe. I mean I plan on hunting her down and tearing her hair out, but probably that won’t happen. Plus, she has areal problem, B, a real problem.”
Britte rolled her eyes. “Well, if you won’t tear her hair out, I will. Even if I have to check myself into rehab!”
“Where does one go for a gambling addiction?” I asked pensively.
Britte thought about that for a moment but shook her head dismissively in the end. “I don’t know, but come on, we’re going to be late. We can brainstorm later. And if nothing else, we’ll steal a couple of Becket’s baseball bats and get your money back the old fashioned way.”
