Page 59 of Carnal Games

“No money talk between friends,” she scolds, munching on a packet of Lays. My half-eaten Lays. “How many times do I gotta tell you?”

I try to snatch the chips and I receive another slap on my wrist. “Ouch! Stop hitting me, Ro.”

“Stop stealing my snacks.”

“It’s mine!”

Stuffing a piece into her mouth, she singsongs, “Not anymore.”

“Here.” Bianca pours me a glass of red and presses the glass into my hand. “Now, pretty please, let me decorate the apartment.”

Her cute expression melts my heart. “Fine. But no expensive shit.”

“Technically, it’s Nathan’s place,” comments Rosalie. “We can always foot him the bill.”

“No!” I quickly shut the suggestion down.

“Chill, Iris,” chuckles Bianca. “I won’t go overboard. How about starting simple with painting the walls a brighter color? Pastel colors are always trending. Maybe add some paintings too. Some family pictures up there on that wall. Ooh… a potted plant…”

“Stop her before she has a mini orgasm on your couch,” whispers Rosalie in my ear.

The loud snort I make, causing the wine to spill, cuts off Bianca mid-speech.

“What?” she huffs, staring at us weirdly.

“Nothing.”

“Beautiful places get me going, okay?” She pouts. “Sue me.”

Balling the empty chip packet, Rosalie throws it onto the plate. Twisting her body in our direction, she sits cross-legged. “Enough chitchat. How did it go with Kian?”

I was waiting for them to bring it up. Before leaving for Kian’s office, I had informed them of my plan in our group chat.

“Awful,” I mumble.

“What’s the next step then?”

“I go to the office tomorrow and tell my editor I can’t do—”

“No. No,” Rosalie interrupts. “I meant about convincing Kian.”

“Nothing. He said no.”

“Whoa.” Bianca gasps, then mocks, “That’s the not the Iris we know.”

“Huh?”

A gleeful look passes between them, slow grins playing on their mouths. Bianca folds her legs beneath her to sit up taller, and claps. “We’ve waited for this moment.”

“What moment?” I’m utterly lost.

Rosalie nods eagerly like a kid at a candy store. “The time has come.”

“For what? Will you guys explain?”

Together, they swing their bright eyes my way and stare down at me as I stay slumped against the couch.

“Intervention,” they say.

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