Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(17)

Russell walked out of the Longshoreman with those words ringing in his ears.





Chapter 6



ABBY RUBBED HER blurry eyes and blinked a few times, hoping the laptop screen would come back into focus. No dice. She’d officially hit the wall. Problem these days was, even when she lay down and attempted to sleep, numbers streamed by on the inside of her eyelids. Important numbers. She used to love playing with formulas and manipulating values, but she never got a break anymore. Numbers had transformed into her enemy.

She could hear Honey and Roxy out in the living room, spoons clinking on bowls as they ate ice cream and watched Finding Bigfoot. They’d tried several times since Monday night to entice her into hanging out, but she’d continued to hide in her room, pretending work was the only thing keeping her there. Coward.

Two days had passed since she’d fallen asleep with Russell and woken to an orgasm to beat the band. Two days since she’d had her eyes opened and seen Russell in a new light. Two days since he’d held up a mirror, reflected the light straight back, and blinded her. Truthfully, she was embarrassed. For so many reasons, she couldn’t even begin to enumerate them. Like a typical starry-eyed virgin, she’d projected feelings that weren’t there. Seen and felt something from Russell that didn’t exist, very likely damaging their friendship in the process.

If she were more confident where the opposite sex was concerned, she could just blow his rejection off. So what? I’m not his type. Then go find someone who could appreciate an awkward, small-breasted math geek still in possession of her cherry.

Abby slapped a hand to her forehead. More than anything, she wanted to tell Honey and Roxy what had happened and get their take, but she no longer felt sure of how they would react. After all, hadn’t she been one hundred percent positive Russell would never hurt her feelings? He’d sure as heck torn that belief down the middle with a resounding rip. Roxy and Honey had faced obstacles at the outset of their relationships, but they’d definitely never had to deal with the man not finding them attractive. Yes, she had very little experience with men, but she was fairly certain that if Russell had found her appearance pleasing, he wouldn’t have zoomed for the exit. Were men even capable of turning down a sexy, obviously willing woman? From what she’d been told, her roommates’ boyfriends definitely hadn’t.

Would Roxy and Honey react with pity? Or worse . . . maybe Abby’s problem would be such a foreign concept to them, they wouldn’t even know what to say. At twenty-four, with zero sexual experience to speak of, she felt enough like a freak already without the additional freakhood.

“Hey, Einstein.” Roxy appeared at her door, rubbing one stocking-clad foot against the opposite leg. “Honey found Weekend at Bernie’s in the ninety-nine-cent bin at Rite Aid. Get in on this.”

“I made cupcakes, fool,” Honey shouted from the living room. “Made them with strawberry frosting because it’s your favorite, and being laid regularly has made me seriously philanthropic.”

There was no way Abby couldn’t laugh at that, so she did. “All right, fine. I need a break anyway. I’m starting to see in double vision.”

Roxy bumped her with a sharp hip as they left Abby’s bedroom. “When is this project going to be finished? You’ve been at it for weeks.”

Project? Is that what she’d told them? “Uh . . . soon, I think. I need to weigh the risk of a few more investment opportunities—”

“Abby, you’re making my head hurt. I’m an actress for a reason.” Roxy winked at her. “What I do know is how to keep your body instrument fine-tuned, and yours looks tired. Whatever you’re doing in there . . . I—we—think you need to scale it back.”

When they reached the living room, Abby glanced over her shoulder to find Honey looking cross-armed and downright mean. Recognizing an ambush when she saw one, Abby started backing toward her bedroom. “Oh no. What is this? An intervention?”

Honey blocked her entrance to the hallway. “Roommate style, bitch.”

“Come.” Roxy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back into the living room. “Cupcakes and a chat never killed anyone.”

“There’s no Weekend at Bernie’s is there?” Abby groaned. “I really don’t need to be . . . intervened. Interventioned. Is there a word for this?”

“Worried.” Honey guided her down onto the couch. “We’re seriously worried, okay? You were already working too hard and not sleeping enough, but the last few days, it has gotten worse. Talk to us.”

“Yeah,” Roxy said. “You listen to us complain all the time. We want our turn to be good friends.” Since Roxy was usually the most emotionally closed-off of their threesome, Abby was surprised to see a hint of vulnerability creep into her expression. “I only learned recently what good friend means, and it sure as hell isn’t letting you waste away in your bedroom while we watch a music montage of a dead guy being carried around.”

Abby swallowed a smile. “So . . . there is Weekend at Bernie’s . . . ?”

“Oh, sure. Make jokes during my Full House moment.”

“This intervention appears to be getting away from us,” Honey broke in. “Tell us how we can help, Abby. Baked goods only go so far.”

Abby reached for a pink-topped cupcake, letting her breath seep out. Opening up felt like the right thing to do. She was carrying around too many secrets, enough to eventually topple her if she continued in this vein. But when she opened her mouth to tell them about Russell, about the scary, new feelings for him that had popped up only to be shot down, something else entirely came out. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to let their one-and-only moment fly away just yet. Or maybe it was her self-consciousness. Whatever the reason, she shoved it deep down into an inner cave for safekeeping, allowing an even bigger secret to finally break free.