Twisted Love (Twisted, #1)(13)

“Maybe she’s busy.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Jules. She could be in trouble, and I know your boss. Wouldn’t take much more than a word from me to derail your internship.”

I’d done my research on all of Ava’s closest friends. Jules was pre-law, and the internship between a student’s junior and senior years was critical for admittance into a competitive law school.

All traces of flirty coquettishness melted. Jules narrowed her eyes. “Don’t threaten me.”

“Don’t play games.”

We glared at each other for a minute, precious seconds ticking by before she relented. “She’s not in trouble, okay? She’s with a friend. Like I said, she’s probably busy. She’s not glued to her phone.”

“Address.”

“You’re hot, but you can be a real overbearing asshole.”

“Address.”

Jules huffed out a sigh. “I’m only telling you if I can go with you. To make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

I was already halfway to my car.

Five minutes later, we were speeding back to D.C. I was going to bill Josh for all my gas expenses when he returned, just out of spite.

“Why are you so concerned? Ava has her own life, and she’s not a dog. She doesn’t have to jump every time you say fetch.” Jules flipped down the visor mirror and retouched her lipstick when we stopped at a red light.

“For someone who claims to be her best friend, you’re not concerned enough.” Irritation coiled in my stomach. “When have you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a call?”

“Uh, when she’s in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping. Showering. A photo—”

“It’s been almost an hour,” I snapped.

Jules shrugged. “Maybe she’s having sex.”

A muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasn’t sure which version of Jules was worse—the one who always tried to convince me to mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me.

Why couldn’t Ava have lived with one of her other friends? Stella seemed more accommodating, and given her background, Bridget wouldn’t ever say the shit Jules said.

But no, I was stuck with the redheaded menace.

No wonder Josh always complained about her.

“You said she’s with a friend.” I pulled onto the street where said friend’s house was located and parked.

“A male friend.” She unbuckled her seatbelt with a beatific smile. “Thanks for the ride and conversation. It was…enlightening.”

I didn’t bother asking her what she meant. She’d just feed me a heap of sugar-laced bullshit.

While Jules took her sweet time, I exited the car and banged an impatient fist against the front door.

It swung open a minute later, revealing a skinny, bespectacled man with confusion stamped on his face when he saw Jules and me standing there. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s Ava?”

“She’s upstairs, but who—” I shouldered my way past him, which wasn’t hard considering he weighed a hundred sixty, tops.

“Hey, you can’t go up there!” he yelled. “They’re in the middle of something.”

Fuck. That. If Ava was having sex—a dangerous rhythm pulsed behind my temple at the thought—that was all the more reason for an interruption. Horny college guys were some of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

I wondered if she’d gotten back together with her ex. Josh mentioned the weasel had cheated on her, and she didn’t seem like the type who’d crawl back to someone after they treated her terribly, but I wouldn’t put anything past Miss Sunshine and Roses. That bleeding heart of hers would land her in a heap of trouble one day.

Once I reached the second floor, I didn’t need to guess what room she was in—I heard sounds bleeding through the half-open door at the end of the hall. Behind me, Jules and Spectacles pounded up the steps, the latter still blabbering about how I couldn’t be up here even though I was already fucking here.

I didn’t know how humans survived this long. Most people were idiots.

I opened the door all the way and froze.

Not sex. Worse.

Ava stood in the middle of the room, clad in a skimpy black lace getup that left little to the imagination. She huddled next to a guy with spiked blond hair holding a camera. They were whispering and laughing while staring at the camera’s display screen, so engrossed in their little tête-à-tête they didn’t notice they had company.

My temple pulsed harder.

“What…” My voice sliced through the air like a whip. “Is going on here.”

It wasn’t a question. I knew what was going on. The setup, the rumpled bed, Ava’s outfit…they were in the middle of a photoshoot. With Ava as the model. Dressed in something that wouldn’t be out of place in Playboy magazine.

The strappy concoction Ava wore barely covered the necessary bits. It looped around her neck, baring her shoulders, and plunged to her navel in the front. The high-cut bottom left her legs and most of her ass bare, and other than the areas covering her breasts and between her legs, the sheer black lace revealed more than it covered.

I’d never seen her like this. It wasn’t just the outfit; it was everything. The usually straight black hair that fell in luscious waves down her back, the made-up face with the smoky eyes and glossy red lips, the miles of golden skin and curves that etched themselves into my brain forever.