But unlike my room, there isn’t a full-length pedestal mirror waiting for me to destroy.
While Arizona busily makes herself at home, getting a feel for Tanner Morgan, I move toward his bed. Hoisting myself up, I stand by the headboard, gripping onto it to keep myself steady as I dip my hand into my skirt pocket and pull out the lipstick that has haunted me all day.
My stare lingers on the wall over his bed. It’s practically screaming blank canvas, and it would only be the neighborly thing to do to help him with a little bit of art. What can I say? I’m a neighborly kind of girl, so I uncap the lipstick and get to work.
Arizona gapes as she watches me, and I try not to grin like an idiot. This is more thrilling than it has the right to be. I just hope the lipstick doesn’t stain the wall, though it shouldn’t. It’s not like I can afford the good shit.
When I’m done, I cap the lipstick and leave it balanced right in the center of his headboard just as he had done when putting it on my desk. Arizona offers me her hand and I jump down before the two of us stand at the end of his bed, admiring the priceless artwork scrawled across the wall.
KEEP IT. IT’LL LOOK BETTER ON A BITCH LIKE YOU.
“You’re dead,” Arizona laughs. “You know that, right?”
Moving toward his window, I glance back over my shoulder and grin at her. “I know. I can’t wait.” And with that, we climb out, leaving his room just how we found it, minus one exquisite new artwork.
Arizona hands me a mimosa and we make our way out the backdoor into the warm sun. The pool glistens, almost daring me to dive in, and I have to take a moment to appreciate just how fortunate I am. I mean, sure, I don’t exactly want to be here, and I don’t exactly like the company I have to keep, but there’s no denying that this new home comes with certain advantages that I simply would never have been able to obtain in Hope Falls.
This lifestyle is beyond anything I could have dreamt for myself. I feel like Ryan from The OC being thrust into this luxurious life that I did absolutely nothing to earn, but hell, that doesn’t mean I won’t soak up every last second of it while I can. Who knows when Channing will decide that he’s had enough of us. I can’t get too comfortable here or make friendships that are only going to be stripped away.
“Tell me about this ex-boyfriend,” Arizona says, slipping her glasses over her eyes and dropping down onto the sunchair.
“Uggggh, the guy is an asshole,” I tell her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Beep. Beep.
My gaze drops to my phone as I make myself comfortable on the sunchair beside hers and groan when I see Colby’s name flash across the screen. I don’t even bother looking at it before handing her my phone and showing her the slew of texts I’ve received from him since Saturday night.
“Holy shit,” she gasps, her eyes widening in horror. “This dude is intense.”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Apparently, it’s unreasonable to dump a guy for cheating on you, but it’s even worse not to be present for him to unleash his revenge tactics. Who would have known?”
My phone rings in her hand and she quickly holds it out to me. ‘“Sorry, didn’t mean to look. It’s Erica,” she says as I take the phone back and scan the name flashing on the screen.
Warmth surges through my chest as I answer Erica’s call and hold the phone to my ear. “Well, well, look who couldn’t go a whole day without me.”
I can almost hear Erica rolling her eyes. “I’m more than happy to end the call and leave you to discover all of Colby’s bullshit on your own.”
“No, no, no,” I rush out, laughing. “I’m sorry. Don’t hang up. I want to hear all about it.”
“There’s a lot to unpack,” she says. “Are you sure you want to know? Colby was in fine form. He was so freaking pissed when he got there this morning. I almost got my head bitten off. He wanted to know where you were, but don’t worry, I didn’t tell him shit.”
“Damn. I’m sorry you have to play this in-between thing.”
Erica scoffs. “In between would imply there are two sides here. It’s literally just him spewing insults and rage at me as though I’m the one to blame for his limp dick ending up in some whore’s cooch.”
“Actually,” I say with a cringe, almost guilty for having judged her so fast. “She’s not a whore. She’s actually really nice.”
“What? We’re friends with the dancer girl now?”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Her name is Ilaria, and she introduced me to some of her friends. One of them is here now actually. We’re having mimosas by the pool.”