Collide (Collide #1)(79)

In an effort to take her mind off him, she concentrated on the fact that Dillon would most likely be awaiting her arrival. To her relief, he was comfortably splayed out across her couch when she walked in. Over the next hour, he thoroughly filled her in on his achievement of landing one of the largest accounts his firm had acquired in more than ten years.

Although she debated on whether or not to tell him about her day spent with Gavin, she decided against it, not wanting to dismantle Dillon's happiness. Now all she had to do was convince herself that Dillon's happiness was actually the reason she would hide such a thing. She settled the self-argument firing up in her head as simply as she could.

He didn't ask how her day went, so she didn't tell.




"God, Em, could you hog the mirror anymore?" Olivia nudged her hip against Emily's in an attempt to see her own reflection. "You look banging. Now let me see myself."

Emily teased her fingers through her hair, trying to give it a little more bounce without unnecessary amounts of hairspray. "You're in my bathroom, friend. Go use yours."

Letting out a sigh, Olivia frowned. "But I like yours better; now scoot," she clipped, jerking her hip against Emily's with more force this time. "Besides, your friend's waiting in the other room for us, so don't be rude. I'll be done in a second, and then we can go party until we drop!"

Laughing, Emily shot herself one last look in the mirror and strolled out of the bathroom. She plucked her outfit for the evening off the bed. After slipping into a short black twill skirt and a red short-sleeved button-up blouse, she threw on a pair of black heels and called out to Olivia for approval.

She playfully spun around, modeling her attire.

"You look like a sex kitten," Olivia trilled.

Emily smiled and made her way into the living room.

Fallon jumped up from the couch, her gray eyes wide. "Damn, Emily, you clean up well."

Placing her hands on her hips, Emily smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yeah, Country, it's a compliment." She tossed her red-and-stark-white-streaked hair over her shoulder. "The only clothing I've seen you in is that horrid black-and-white uniform that they make us wear."

"Well, thank you, Fallon," Emily laughed. "For another horrid black-and-white-wearing-uniformed waitress, you don't look too bad yourself. I would never be able to pull off fishnet stockings like you can."

Fallon's mouth curled wickedly as she propped her leg onto the coffee table. "These old things? Damn, if I could live in a fishnet bodysuit, I would. Though I usually don't care what people think, society wouldn't consider that very proper, would they?"

Emily shook her head and laughed. "I'm thinking you might be right about that."

Olivia emerged from the bedroom, sporting a red dress and matching heels. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders, and the dress hugged her hourglass physique like a glove. After twirling herself around for Emily and Fallon, she made her way into the kitchen, pulled out three shot glasses from the cabinet, and topped each one off with a heavy dose of tequila.

"Come on, ladies," Olivia squealed. "Let's do a couple of mind-f*ckers before we hit the club."

The three women indulged in a shot, each of them excited for a much-needed night out on the town. After they downed a second "mind-f*cker," a quick knock came at the door, followed by Dillon walking in.

"Why even bother knocking, Douche?" Olivia asked, rolling her brown eyes. Emily elbowed her in the gut. "I mean, Dillon, of course," she huffed out from the impact.