I didn’t want to think about that. Or the fact that suddenly the one constant in my life since college wasn’t a constant anymore.
Matt and Dolly were dancing with her too, and Matt bent down to whisper something in Rosalie’s ear.
God, Dolly really could not dance at all, looking like a horror movie marionette out there. But at least she had that reporter with her, because I didn’t think I could keep up this pretense much longer. I had told Rosalie the truth. Why wasn’t she over it?
Whatever Matt said made Rosalie laugh, and she gripped his arm, laughing in that full, I-don’t-give-a-fuck way she had.
My vision seemed to tunnel into that one spot where her hand gripped his polo shirt, twisting the fabric under his fingers.
I didn’t like the way it felt.
Didn’t like that her pants rode low on her perfectly curved hips, that her ass was filling out those jeans perfectly, that there might be guys out there on her Instagram who thought they had a chance.
I’d never seen her so much as look twice at anyone else.
The rest of the concert was a blur, the songs coming out of my mouth on autopilot.
Usually after a concert, I stayed behind or let Cornelius leak a hot local bar I’d be at. Then I’d have my pick of the hottest groupies to fuck, one after the other, or all together.
But I wasn’t in the mood.
Instead, I went back to the hotel suite where Dolly and Rosalie were having a spa night in their pajamas.
“Rosalie, I have something to tell you,” I said firmly, then stopped short, my fingers curling around the back of the couch.
My eyes were riveted to where Matt in a face mask was rubbing her feet, his fingers moving slowly and sensuously over her tiny toes, the candy-pink color peeping out from her long satin pajama pants.
Her toes looked seriously good enough to eat, and my mouth was watering again, sweat pouring down my back.
“I need to talk to Rosalie. Urgent business.”
“But it’s spa night!” Matt protested.
“Get out of here, man! I tell you, it’s urgent!”
I picked Matt up by the collar and dragged him over to the door, slamming it behind him.
Rosalie stretched her toes like a cat and I swallowed hard. She knewexactlywhat she was doing.
“Can I give you a foot rub?” I asked, trying to make my voice casual.
“No.”
Her total lack of interest and disdain stuck in my throat and I couldn’t swallow it down.
“Dolly, can you go ask the front desk for some more towels? We’re out.”
“But we aren’t out,” she protested, pointing at a big stack of fresh pillowy towels.
“OK, then ask for some whiskey. We’re out of whiskey.”
“Dolly, you don’t have to let him boss you around like that,” Rosalie said tranquilly. “He’s a big boy. He can get his own damn whiskey.”
But Dolly toddled off as I knew she would.
“Rosalie,” I growled the second she left the room, “I’msorry,all right, fuck, damn. I was being a jackass. This shit with Dolly isn’t real. I don’t even like her. It’s a fake relationship cooked up by Cornelius so I can get this role on the movie.”
My hand on her shoulder wasn’t perfectly steady, especially when her long ponytail brushed across my grip.
