ever been, but also not the most impolite, so I should get points for that much.
He knocked on the door after I’d closed it, calling out my name. But I just flipped my locks and retreated back to my couch. The glass-blowing show was still on, and I quickly found myself way too engrossed in the god-awful potato sculpture one of the women was making.
Then again, art was so subjective. Just because it wasn't to my taste, didn't mean others wouldn't love it like it was the next statue of David. Maybe. They were very realistic old potatoes made out of glass.
My phone rang again, and I missed seeing whether the potatoes won the category as I went to answer it.
"Hey girl," I said, bringing the phone to my ear. "What's up?"
"Not much," Bree replied. "Just got home from a dinner date with Dallas. Did, uh, did something happen with Scott today?"
I froze, apprehension rippling through me. "Why do you ask?"
"I dunno," she replied with a laugh, "maybe the twelve missed calls I just had from him? I wanted to call you before I replied, though. Is he being a needy weirdo?"
I let out a long sigh as I took my phone back to the couch and flopped down. "Big time. Hey, did you seriously use your phone tracker to tell him where I was today? That's not cool, Bree."
"What?" she shrieked, almost bursting my eardrum with her shrill volume. "No! Fuck no. No way. Is that what he said?"
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Yep."
Bree dissolved into curses. Creative curses. Dallas was really influencing her vocabulary.
"Do you want to come over?" I asked, cutting her off. "I could really do with an in-person bitch session, if it's not too late?" I glanced at my phone and wrinkled my nose when I realized it was already after nine.
I half expected Bree to say no, but I should have known her better than that.
"Hell yes," she replied quickly. "I can be there in fifteen. Want me to bring wine?"
I grinned. "Please. And ice cream." Fucking Scott had given me a craving.
Bree laughed. "You bet, what flavor?"
"Anything but mint chocolate chip," I replied with a gagging noise.
"Well, duh," she replied with a snort. "Everyone knows you despise that toothpastey shit. I'll see you soon."
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the coffee table. I'd made the right call to send both Steele and Scott home. A girls’ night with wine and ice cream was exactly what I needed to de-stress.
Hopefully.
19
Bree knocked on my door halfway through the next round of the glass-blowing competition and promptly wrinkled her nose at my choice of entertainment.
"Taking up a new hobby, girl?" she teased, taking the other half of the couch and handing me a pint of cookie dough ice cream with a spoon.
I moaned in relief and eagerly pulled the top off it. "You're the best. And this show is weirdly addictive. Find something else, though." I tossed her the remote, and she started scrolling while I crammed my face with delicious ice cream.
She selected an equally trashy reality TV show about nail art, then muted the TV and turned to face me with a frown.
"Alright, spill. What was that shit about Scott using my phone tracker? I can tell you, hand on heart, I haven't even spoken to him today. Whatever the fuck he said I did, he's a damn liar." She pressed her palm to her chest, and her expression was fierce. I didn't blame her; it was a pretty serious accusation from Scott.
I stared back at her as I finished my mouthful, then sighed heavily. "Yeah, I didn't think you would have. He showed up at this warehouse-bar-conversion thing where I had a photo shoot with Archer—"
"Wait, what?" Bree's voice rose to shrill levels. "Rewind. Wait, no tell me about the Scott thing first, then rewind and fill me in on what the fuck you were doing with Archer."
I shot her a grin as I took the unopened wine from her bag and twisted the cap off. I took a gulp straight from the bottle before explaining further. The weekend had been a hell of a mess already; I deserved to drink wine without a glass.
"Okay, so Scott showed up at this photo shoot in the old West Shadow Grove warehouse district and started a fight with Kody." I cringed, remembering the pathetic punch Scott had tried to throw.
Bree sucked in a dramatic gasp. "He didn't. Is he brain dead?