Page 88 of Vicious Little Snakes
Everything is so mangled. My friends hate me. I hate me. And Caroline… She breaks my heart.
I need a vacation from my fucking life. Opening the contacts in my phone, I choose a random direction and stalk down the street. The third name on my list stares up at me, bright on my cell phone’s screen like a temptation—the kind you know you should probably avoid but won’t, especially when you’re feeling self-destructive.
Without thinking twice, I hit call, and it only rings once before the husky voice answers amongst loud voices in the background.
“Liam. I was just thinking about you. Come out.”
“Love to. Tell me where you’re at, beautiful.”
“I’ll text you. Ciao, baby.”
“Ciao, Arden.”
* * *
Van:I’m sorry. If you need space, take it. I was a shit. Love you, Brookie.
Grey:Don’t be a dick. I get it—but don’t hurt Cherry too.
Kai:I know what I said but dude—let’s talk, for real, no bullshit.
“Liam, your phone is buzzing like crazy.”
“Turn it off.” My throat burns as I take a hit from the blunt passed to me by some random guy sitting on my right.
The smoke lingers inside my mouth before I blow it out, feeling the tightness in my chest begin to relax for the first time in a long time.
Caroline
Ishift, looking at myself in the mirror, closing and reopening my pink tweed Chanel blazer.
“This jacket makes me look like Elle Woods. Grab another one or buy me a chihuahua.”
“The horror.” Kai grins, diving back into the massive pile of clothes that have taken up residence on the floor of my closet.
“This outfit needs to be perfect,” I yell so he can hear me. “I have one shot to impress these Upper East Side bitches and become one of the chosen few. I didn’t even think I’d get a fucking invitation to interview after—”the partyis what I don’t say.
After two weeks of all these damn feelings, I try not to avoid it because Liam is still all I want to think about.
Kai’s voice carries, “They’d be fools not to want you. You are the social scene, Caroline. What about the taupe Calvin Klein?”
My head shakes. “Too suburban. I want a classic look, not something that screams—I have a husband embroiled in a Ponzi scheme and two kids via surrogate because I couldn’t give up the wine.”
I hear him laugh as he peeks his head around the corner. “Miu Miu?”
“God, no. Too Tribeca.”
“I’ve got it,” Kai shouts, emerging with a fucking classic trench with perfect lines and just the right shade of champagne.
“Yes. Herrera to the rescue.”
Kai walks over to me and slides it over my shoulders as we both stare in the mirror. His arms wrap around my waist, cinching the belt.
“This is a statement. You look stunning, baby.”
I smile, but it quickly fades as he leans down to kiss my neck.
“Stop,” I whisper, dodging his lips. “It’s still a no.”
