Page 13 of Dreams on the Ice

With her etiquette on point, Brooklynn extends her hand, her smile wide as she shakes everyone’s hands. Then Sascha gasps and reaches out, her index finger touching Brooklynn’s purse.

“Is this a Tyler Ellis?” she asks, her eyes wide and her lips parted in awe.

“It is,” Brooklynn says. “I fell in love with it and thought it went with the shoes, so I had to have it.”

I know what Brooklynn is doing—she’s drawing attention to her two showstopper pieces, but she doesn’t realize that her dress is just as fucking amazing. But honestly, what really makes the showstopper is just her.

Brooklynn draws attention to herself without even trying. There’s a light that surrounds her. It radiates from her. It’s the first thing I noticed about her. The second was her height, and the third was that she was hot as fuck.

“Those shoes are divine,” Sascha breathes.

Brooklynn opens her mouth to say something else, presumably to thank her, when my mother floats over. The group snaps their lips closed at the presence of Queen B—my mother, the queen of bitches.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the young people’s gathering, but I need to steal Forrest away. There’s someone I’m just dying for you to meet,” she says.

Her voice is a singsongy tone that I haven’t heard in years. It makes me wonder if she’s on her antidepressants again. My mother takes my hand and begins to pull me away from the group. Then she states that Brooklynn can stay and chat.

“No,” I bark. “Brook comes with me.”

My mother’s eyes widen, then they narrow. I’ve defied her publicly, and she did not like that. Well, I don’t like a whole hell of a lot when it comes to them, so I don’t much give a fuck if I’ve pissed her off.

“Forrest, it would be boring for her. Please, come with me,” my mother all but demands.

Shaking my head once, I take Brooklynn’s hand and tug her behind me. Ignoring my mother, I begin to walk toward the amassed group of people, assuming that whoever the fuck my mother wants me to meet is somewhere there.

Stopping, I allow my mother to catch up, then pass us. Neither she nor Brooklynn says a single word. Brooklynn because she’s supporting me, my mother, because she’s pissed the fuck off.

Following behind my mother, I watch as she stops in front of two women. They look like they could be mother and daughter. I recognize the actual daughter. And then it hits me. This is a fucking setup. Because only my mother would try and hook me up with someone when I’ve brought a fucking girlfriend with me.

I knew this shit would happen.

BROOKLYNN

The party from the outside seems amazing, and I’m sure that if I were a different guest, I would think that’s exactly what it is—amazing. But since I’m here with Forrest, I do believe that this party sucks.

It sucks because I really do like a good party where I can dress up and feel beautiful. This one is just that, and I feel beautiful, but at the same time, I know it’s Forrest’s version of hell, and that makes me sad for him.

But as we walk toward the two women who are staring right at me, I can’t help but feel as if I’m a lamb being led to the slaughter because those two look as if they’re ready to pounce.The moment we approach them, their entire demeanor shifts, and they both lock in on Forrest.

Oh. My.

This is why his mother didn’t want me here. This is clearly a plan they came up with. This girl wants Forrest. Well, she’s going to have to fight for him. Because he may not be mine, but he sure as shit is not hers and will never be. I can spot her shitty mean-girl attitude from a mile away.

“You remember Kiki Bass and her mother, don’t you, Forrest?”

I don’t look away from them, and I know they can feel my eyes focused on them, but they ignore me. These women are, without a doubt, mean girls. They don’t care that I’m standing here holding Forrest’s hand. They don’t care that he’s introduced me as his girlfriend.

They couldn’t give a fuck less. They want what they want the way they want it, and they’re going to do anything and everything they can to get it.

Mean.

Girls.

“I do,” he murmurs, plastering on a fake smile.

I know it’s fake because he hasn’t smiled a real one since we got here. His entire body is tense, and his face is a little pinchy, too. His jaw is set hard. He’s miserable, and there’s nothing I can do to help him.

“Brooklynn, I’d like you to meet Kiki and her mother, Mrs. Bass,” he says.

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