On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,92

be taken under consideration.”

“I think we should get dressed up and go to a party.”

I sigh. “You don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“You know me. I tune out bullshit. And you are very much full of it if you think lying around here in a bathrobe and eating doughnuts will get you through this. You need to get out of this house and mingle. You need to, dare I say it, check off that number five.”

“I already did that,” I say.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Drew was my number five.”

She scoffs. “That doesn’t count.”

“Number five. Fall in love with a stranger. You used to call him Resting Prick Face because we didn’t know his name. It counts.”

Jenna cracks up. “I totally forgot about that. Good times, eh?”

I grunt as I stand. “I’m getting another doughnut.”

I walk over to the counter, grab another glazed with my sticky fingers, and head back to the table.

As I sit down, Jenna leans over and lays a small, velvet box in front of me.

“What’s that?” I ask, my lips twitching.

“A birthday gift.”

I wipe the sticky off my fingers with a paper towel before picking it up.

“From Drew,” she adds.

I set it back down. “Really?”

Jenna nods. “He showed up here last night while you were stranded on the floor waiting for your toenails to dry,” she says. “I saw him lurking outside and shooed him off.”

“He was lurking?”

“There was definitely some lurking, yes.”

I hesitate, trying to convince myself I don’t care, but I do. “How was he?” I ask.

She wrinkles her nose. “It kinda looked like someone beat the shit out of him. His shirt was ripped, and he was covered in dirt. He seemed... pretty upset, actually.”

My stomach lurches with concern. Maybe he and Seth got into it at the Delta Xi party.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“He asked how you were.” She nods at the box. “Then he told me to give that to you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him you’d say, but...” she smiles, “he said that it was yours. He really wanted you to have it. Even if I took credit for it and said it was from me.”

I look at the box, my curiosity officially piqued. “Did you look?” I ask, though I already know. You can’t hand Jenna Abrams a velvet box and expect her to not check it out at least once.

“Yes, I did,” she says.

“And?”

“And... I think you should open it.”

I stare at it, letting my mind wander about what it could be. Velvet box typically means jewelry of some sort. It’s rectangular, so maybe not a ring, but maybe a necklace or a bracelet—

“Oh, my god, just open it!” Jenna snaps at me. “For fuck’s sake, woman. I’ve been waiting all day.”

I pick it up with a smile and pop it open.

I gasp.

I was right. It is a necklace, but I wasn’t expecting something like this. It’s a bright necklace with a golden chain and a quarter-sized teardrop pendant made of solid orange topaz. I tilt the box and it sparkles like wild, golden irises. Like my eyes, as he would probably say.

“Fuck,” I say, nearly choking on the word.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Jenna says.

I set the open box down on the table, too afraid of dropping it. “What are the odds this thing is real?” I ask.

She chuckles. “What are the odds Mr. I Popped My Girlfriend’s Cherry on a Private Yacht bought her a necklace made of real gold and gemstones? Ten to one, honey.”

“Wow,” I say as I gaze at it. “That’s a good point.”

“A hundred to one.”

I nod. “You’re probably right.”

“One million to one.”

“Yeah, I got it, Jenna!”

She smirks behind her coffee mug.

I shove my doughnut into my mouth while the pendant glitters at me some more. It’s stunning — absolutely stunning — and exactly the gift I’d expect from a guy like Drew. I’d wear it every day just to remind myself who it came from, and to show others I belong to him.

But that yacht has sunk.

“I need to get dressed,” I say, quickly pushing myself out of my chair.

“You going to take this thing?” Jenna asks.

“No.”

“Then, can I have it?”

I spin around and snatch the box right out of Jenna’s hand.

“Rude!” she shouts after me.

Chapter 50

Heidi

You know, one of these days, I’ll stop being so surprised when life screws me over, but that day is not today.

Today, I sit at a table for four at Moira’s Cafe in Chicago with my mother to my left, my father to