You betcha.
Was my heart shattered?
Absolutely.
With no solution in sight, I’d wandered aimlessly around the different stores. Normally, I didn’t have time to do things like this.
Normally, I’d be at home, getting supper made, prepping meals for tomorrow and either studying or doing classwork—or both.
Then it would be time to clean up, play with the puppies, and do more school stuff. Maybe some laundry.
Instead, I got my nails done and ate some really greasy, yet satisfying takeout food before I caught the bus back home.
Now I was in the bathroom, playing with some of the makeup I’d bought today.
It wasn’t as good as how Jillian did it, but I had to admit it looked pretty good. My hair turned out nicely, too. Long, dark curls fell over my shoulders. It felt nice to have my hair down.
“How much longer are you going to be in there?” Beau yelled from either the living room or the kitchen. I gave myself a quick check in the mirror.
As the day went on, Beau’s excuses from that morning kept needling me. I felt like I was in the middle of some kind of waterboarding torture, but instead of water, his words relentlessly continued hitting my head.
Seeing his night up close and personal hadn’t helped.
I wasn’t sure how many videos of the guys’ night out had surfaced on social media—I’d stopped watching after the first few. Beau dancing with other girls. Beau sitting on a barstool while girls slithered up to him and kissed his cheeks.
That was when I stopped searching for more. Seeing the sheer volume of barely clothed women rubbing themselves up on him had been too much.
I learned instantly that maturity and revenge were mutually exclusive.
Screw Beau for telling me I was acting immature.
Screw him and those slutty, hockey player grabbing puck bunnies for making a mockery of our fake—real—whatever this stupid relationship was.
My gaze fell to my cleavage. The smirk I gave myself was immediate and affirming. Beau was going to have a possible coronary when he saw me in this tight, red dress.
Actually, it was more than tight. There might not be a word in the dictionary that could justly describe how form fitting it was. The capped sleeves were meant to hang down my shoulders. It gave off an entire, ‘This dress could have a major wardrobe malfunction at any minute’ vibe.
As soon as I’d spotted it at the mall, I knew the answer to my crappy mood.
No, I wasn’t exactly proud of myself. But I also wasn’t exactly not proud, either.
The more I’d thought about it, Francisca’s logic seemed dead on. If Beau could go out and party hard, so could I. If it was okay for him not to invite me out. Then I wouldn’t invite him, either.
And the biggest ‘if’ of all?
Was if Beau didn’t bat an eye when I strolled my dolled up ass out the door.
That was too much to think about right now.
“You can do this. Find your inner slut,” I whispered to myself, not sure I had one. On the off chance that I did, I needed to channel her right now.
I opened the door, made sure I had my matching clutch with me, then made my grand entrance. “It’s all yours, sorry I took so long,” I said, referring to the bathroom now being free.
“G—what the fuck? Where are you going?” His head nearly spun off his head.
“Out with the girls,” I said to him dismissively. Crouching down to pet the puppies, I said, “You guys be good, okay? I’m gonna miss you.”
“Very fucking funny, Geneviève,” Beau said, standing up. “Give me five minutes and I’ll come with you.”
That made me giggle. “Oh, Beau, you are not invited. But feel free to do whatever the heck you want. I know I will,” I said with a suggestive smile, even though my insides were tearing to shreds.
I opened the door. Before I had time to close it, he was there, shoving it open. “All right, I get it. You win. Get your ass back inside!” he yelled, obviously not happy with my decision.
When I got to the bottom of the steps, I turned around and said, “Don’t wait up, Beauregard.” Then I kissed the palm of my hand and blew him a kiss.
My girls were waiting for me at the gate. They all hooted and hollered while I strutted up to them. “Go, Gigi!” and “Don’t wait up!” were shouted out as I gave them a sexy smile.
A smile that hid the fact I felt like crying.