Page 20 of Taming Scarlet

On read.

Sure, Di was likely out cold, but Drea and Leona hadn’t been that out of it.

I dragged myself from the toilet to the sink to wash my mouth out before climbing up into the tub, stripping out of my clothes as the water filled.

Alone.

God, so utterly alone.

Not even the people I’d spent almost a thousand dollars on that night would answer me, would offer to come bring me ginger ale or saltines.

Tears pricked my eyes and I had to work to blink them away as I reached for my phone, snapping a bath selfie, taking a picture of my legs poking out of the blood-red water, thanks to the bath bombs I’d dropped in.

Time for some R&R with @SunnySudsBloody Marybath bombs.

Fake.

It was all so fake.

Highlights and tall tales.

While I lay in the tub trying not to cry about my fake friends and the deep well of loneliness that seemed to stretch wider with each night out.

If I let myself introspect too much, I would take to my bed and never rise again.

I drained the tub and wrapped myself in my robe before making my way to the kitchen, hoping some plain water might help settle my stomach.

But I stopped short at seeing an entire twelve-pack sleeve of ginger ale sitting on the kitchen counter.

I ripped open the box, and pulled out a can as my gaze drifted down the hallway.

I hadn’t heard a peep from the bodyguard since we’d come into the apartment.

He was kind of an asshole.

But he was an asshole who’d taken a minute to order me ginger ale when he’d known I was sick.

That was more than I could say for any of my so-called friends.

I cracked the ginger ale, and started to sip, then decided to grab the whole sleeve and take it to bed with me.

“Hey, buddy,” I cooed at Hugh as I got into bed with him. “You love me, right?” I asked as he did a big yawn and stretch before moving across the bed to climb up on my stomach to sleep.

I’d impulsively bought Hugh the morning after a ‘friend’ of mine was caught sending me a text shit-talking me by mistake.

That one had been gutting.

Because I truly did believe that she, out of all of my ‘friends,’ was a real one.

I’d bawled my eyes out for a few hours, then iced my lids, put on a full face of makeup, plastered on a fake smile, and took selfies of me going to get my puppy at the breeder.

It was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Though shunning that fake friend had also been a nice high. The girl couldn’t get into a single decent club in the entire damn city for a year. And she’d lost a hundred thousand followers overnight when some gossip page posted about an ‘insider’ who knew she was two-faced.

Was it immature and petty to spend precious time bringing someone else down? Probably. But I never regretted it either.

She’s totally not even as hot as she thinks she is. If it weren’t for her daddy’s money, no one would be liking all her selfies. No one would want anything to do with her at all.

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