“Yes! Yes, that’s it!” Meegan says. “That’s so crazy. You’re like a micro celebrity or something. Can we take a selfie?”
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep them from rolling, and I stiffen my neck to keep my head from snapping back.
All respect I had for Meegan … evaporated in the last twenty-three seconds.
Gone.
Just like that.
She was so intriguing with her dark, exotic features and bold mouth and a hint of a sense of humor.
I had hope.
Now that hope is gone all thanks to a piece of work named Melrose Claiborne.
“Has anyone ever told you, you look like Jennifer Lawrence?” Meegan asks. “But, like, you’re way prettier.”
Melrose bats her hand. “Stahp.”
“Do you ever worry people will confuse the two of you?” Meegan takes another drink of wine, stepping closer to Melrose. I might as well not exist, an invisible voyeur to the lamest conversation I’ve ever witnessed.
Melrose shakes her head. “I’m so not there yet. I’m still booking small roles. My name isn’t even on anyone’s tongue yet. But if that day ever comes? I’m not worried. I think we’re different enough.”
“I love how modest you are.” Meegan tilts her head, like she admires Melrose. Like she wants to be her instant best friend. “And you’re so talented, oh my gosh. You’re going to be huge one day, I know it. Look at me! I have goosebumps right now.”
Meegan drags her fingertips along her forearm as if it’s some magnificent spectacle, and Melrose’s gaze travels to mine.
Whatever’s happening right now is unreal.
Girls don’t do this.
Girls fight like cats, claws out and ready to pounce.
They stalk each other.
They give backhanded compliments.
They’re not supposed to be getting along, not like this.
“Anyway, enough about me. What do you do?” Melrose asks. Her mouth curls at one side. It’s not a smile, it’s a smirk. She knows what she’s doing. She knows I was about to do my thing with Meegan and now she’s cock-blocking me.
This must be retribution for that date with the wrinkled dick guy the other night. Yeah, part of me did it on purpose because it seemed like the perfect sort of thing to fit into my masterplan, but honestly, I was only doing the right thing. I don’t care what anyone says, a balding, gray-haired, imported sports car-driving prick who looks like a melting Oompa Loompa only bags girls like Melrose because they have money, and they only want girls like Melrose for one thing and one thing only—I don’t care what she says.
It’s disgusting, really.
Someday she’ll thank me.
Someday when a bunch of actresses come forward about what a fucking sleaze bucket that guy is, she’ll look back and remember the night I saved her from his wrinkled balls and hair plugs and she’ll whisper a silent thank you—to me.
“I’m an accountant at a staffing agency,” Meegan says. “Super boring. But I’ve taken some acting classes though, sort of dabbled a little. Nothing serious.”
Ah, so that’s where all the flattery and fawning is coming from. Meegan is networking. Makes sense. I guess.
I yawn.
“Oh, yeah?” Melrose nods toward the living room. “Want to go sit down?”
I must be made of cellophane because neither of them so much as glance in my direction, extend an invitation to join them (not that I’d need one in my own home), or seem to care that I was talking to Meegan first.
The girls leave to the next room, taking a seat together on the sofa and squawking away like two excited little finches.
Dragging my hand along my jaw, I glance toward Kai, who’s seated in the back of the kitchen at the table, thumbing through his phone.
“So that’s how it’s done, dude?” he asks, chuckling as he shakes his head.
“Shut up.”
“Want some ice for that ego, dude? I think it’s going to bruise,” he says.
I ignore Kai’s stupid comment and head outside for some fresh air so I can try not to think about the fact that she got me again.
She fucking got me again.
“SLEEP WELL LAST NIGHT?” I’m brushing my teeth in our shared bathroom with the door open when I hear the shuffle of heavy feet in the hallway.
A moment later, a shirtless Sutter with mussed hair stands in the doorway, resting his palm against the jamb.
“I can’t believe you did that,” he says.
“I’m sorry?” I play dumb, eyes narrowing as I meet his in the mirror’s reflection. “Not sure what you’re referring to?”
“Meegan,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “You cock-blocked me.”
“Ohhh,” I say. “That.”
Sutter presses his back against the doorway before folding his arms. His face is etched in a hard scowl, and I wonder if he went to bed that way.
Probably.
“Sucks when you have plans and someone else sabotages them.” I dab my mouth on a towel and place my toothbrush back in the cup. Squeezing between Sutter and the doorway, I turn to face him when I reach the hall. “I told you, don’t mess with me, Sutter.”