Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(29)

She scowled, probably because I’d just hit the nail on the head. “That is totally beside the point. This is about you, JuJu. You need to stop pining over some unavailable, married man, who is probably cuddling with his wife this very—”

“I am not moping over him,” I muttered, grinding my teeth to keep from announcing I was moping over his brother.

God, I was a mess, such a mess, in fact, that I was too humiliated to confess to my roommates that I no longer even thought about Brandt; I was too busy stressing over Gamble Number Two now.

“Well, whatever you’re doing is depressing as hell. And it’s going to stop. Right now. Sasha!” She clapped her hands before cupping them to her mouth and bellowing, “Girls’ night out. Go find me something to wear.”

“Girl, what’re you yelling about?” Sasha asked, strolling into the living room. “Chad and I have plans to…” Her words trailed off when she entered the living room and took stock of me moping on the couch and Tyla hovering over me in mama bear mode. A second later, she nodded. “Yeah, okay. I can cancel with Chad. Are you in the mood for sexy or comfy?”

“Ooh, let’s go comfy. I already got my man; who do I need to impress?” Tyla hurried after her as Sasha disappeared back down the hall. Their voices floated back as they debated over what the other should wear, and then Tyla yelled, “Be ready within the hour, JuJu! Or your ass is going as is.”

I groaned and set down my Kindle. She wasn’t kidding around when she used that tone of voice. I’d probably best get my ass ready then, though the last thing I wanted to do was mingle with a bunch of immature, drunk college kids. I’d listened to a pair of girls talk before my last class today and damn, I felt so freaking old, too old to attend one of their parties, and I already knew that’s exactly where Tyla and Sasha would want to go.

I guess I could’ve just refused, but yeah… Maybe I really should stop moping and get out of the apartment. If nothing else, it’d help me stop thinking about him for a couple hours.

Still…

“It’s a Wednesday night,” I called. “We all have classes in the morning.”

“Like we’ve never gone to class hungover with two hours of sleep before,” Tyla’s answer echoed down the hall.

“But today was the first day of class,” I whined.

“Especially after a first day frat party under our belt,” Sasha added.

“But it’s our senior year?” Shouldn’t we be more mature than this by now?

Except they both yelled, “Exactly!”

Ugh. I wasn’t going to get out of this unless I pissed them off beyond all prissiness. And I didn’t want to do that.

So I trudged to my room and raided my closet. On the other side of the wall, Sasha and Tyla burst out laughing, the muffled sound cheerful and upbeat. I eyed the wall, longingly, wondering what they were talking about.

I had met Sasha first. We’d worked together at a restaurant across town our sophomore year. When we’d both found ourselves needing a place to live, we’d decided to rent this place together. Later, when I’d met Tyla in a class we shared, I’d invited her to live with us too because she’d broken up with her cheating, * boyfriend at that time and needed a room. And less than a month after she’d moved in with us, she and Sasha had bonded like soul mates.

I knew it was petty of me to feel left out and wish they wanted to share clothes and secrets and makeup advice with me the way they did each other, but most of the time, I couldn’t help it; I envied their close relationship pitifully.

Dressing by myself, I debated between a couple of romper jumpsuits before deciding on a pair of dark hip-hugging jeans with a black turtleneck top that cropped short at the waist and had a heart-shaped hole at the throat large enough to show off some decent cleavage. And then, since it was winter, I pulled on some furred boots with spiky heels. I checked out my hair, swishing the long bangs in the front to the side before checking out the short crop in the back; I’d fixed it this morning. Just a little fluff and spritz here, and I moved onto my face. After a couple minutes of touching up my makeup, I went to check on my girls.

Pausing in the doorway to Sasha’s room, I found them both half-ready.

Tyla noticed me first. With a scowl, she demanded, “How the f*ck do you always look so flawless after five minutes of prepping?”

With a confused frown, I checked my Fitbit. “It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“Whatever.” She swished out a hand and turned back to the mirror where Sasha was fluffing at her hair. “You’re a bitch.”

“Such a bitch you guys don’t want me going with you tonight?” I asked hopefully.

“Ha. Don’t even try to get out of it. You’re going.”

With a sigh, I sat on the end of Sasha’s bed and examined my nails for imperfections. I touched up my polish every night after tying up my hair for bedtime. Lots of people thought my nails had to be fake press-ons or extensions because they were so long, but nope, they were the real deal. One hundred percent Julianna Radcliffe claws.

For some reason, that made me think about Colton’s hair and how that had been real. I swear, it’d been as soft as rabbit hair, but thick and lush and beautiful. It was kind of depressing to know I’d never get to touch it again. If I could manage to get a seat behind him some day in class, I’d probably stare at his hair the whole damn hour.