Page 1 of Get Undressed With Me

PROLOGUE

BRITTANY

It turned out breaking and entering was actually pretty easy. Brittany didn’t even have to pick any locks since she already had a key to Robbie’s apartment. He had given it to her after six months of dating because he was, quote, “tired of walking downstairs to let her in.”

So romantic.

And since Robbie insisted on posting absolutely everything he was doing on social media, even though she had warned him several times not to tell strangers when he was going to be out of town, she knew for a fact he was spending the weekend in Vegas with his latest girlfriend.

Which meant he wasn’t home to stop her.

Brittany tugged on her skirt. She was dressed in her “too sexy for you” outfit–a low-cut tank top paired with her favorite bra and with her favorite black leather jacket, finished with a short skirt so tight that underwear wasn’t an option. Robbie hated this skirt, so Brittany felt right wearing it tonight.

She let herself into the complex with the code Robbie had given her, sipping on the largest fountain soda known to man that she had purchased from the convenience store down the street. The mixture of sugar and caffeine rushed through her, exhilarating her.

Brittany had plans tonight. And those plans involved revenge.

She approached the door to Robbie’s apartment, noting that the windows were dark, confirming that the idiot was indeed out of town. Brittany approached as casually as she could, keeping an eye out for neighbors to avoid. Luckily, it was late enough in LA that either people were in bed or they were still out at the club, leaving the coast clear. At the door, she slid the key into the lock and let herself inside.

The familiar scent of Robbie hit her immediately, flooding her with anger and the slightest twinge of grief, which she would never admit if anyone asked her. Doing her best to breathe through her mouth, Brittany scanned the room. It was almost exactly how she had left it that night when he had told her their relationship wasn’t working. That he wanted to move on. At the time, Brittany had accepted his decision, had even agreed. Robbie was outgoing and charming and good for a laugh, making every situation feel new and exciting—wonderful at the outset but exhausting in the long run. After almost a year of dating, Brittany knew they were pulling apart, outgrowing each other. She had been grateful he had felt the same way, that they could part as friends and not have any drama.

But after some recent revelations, Brittany was ready to break shit.

Ignoring the black and chrome-themed decor that she hated, Brittany headed straight to Robbie’s extra bedroom, the one he used for streaming. His gear was all there, perfectly organized and arranged in a way that made the rest of his place look likea college dorm. The equipment was top of the line, everything from computer processing to microphone to control deck, some of the best money could buy.

Brittany should know. She bought it for him.

There was a bed on the other side of the bookshelf Robbie used as a room divider, the bed his brother Gus would use when he would visit, which was often. But Gus was safely in his home over in Kimball, and Brittany didn’t want to think about him. Gus was level-headed, logical, reasonable. If he knew what Brittany was up to, he’d probably pull out a PowerPoint presentation to prove how insane she was acting, and she frankly wasn’t in the mood to be talked out of her anger. When Brittany was angry, she refused to stop until everyone understood exactly how she felt.

She sank into Robbie’s chair, the one she had bought him for his birthday, the one designed specifically for gamers with adjustable everything because he had complained about back pain. It was comfortable. Maybe not worth the amount she had paid, but she could see the appeal of it. Hitting the button to start the equipment, she sat back and listened to the familiar sounds of the fans blowing, watching the LEDs light up and blink cheerfully at her as she took a long sip of her soda.

Robbie was a gaming streamer, and Brittany had to admit he was pretty good at it. He had only begun in the last few months but had already amassed a solid following. He wasn’t particularly good at the games he chose to play, but his charm and humor got him far with his audience. He had worked diligently for hundreds of hours to build his characters and levels in the various games he played, and because of the needs of his job, he required a lot of data storage for the saved games. Over the time they had been dating, Robbie had gone from amateur streamer to one of the better-known names, landing a sponsorship and launching a line of merchandise to his fans.

Once the computer booted up, Brittany typed in Robbie’s password—K1ngR0bbie, the same password he used for everything—another thing she had warned him about doing. His desktop loaded, and she went straight to his game files, the ones he had spent hours and hours cultivating and grinding for.

One by one, Brittany deleted them.

Once she was certain the digital trash had been emptied, she took one more sip of her overly large, super sugary soda, letting the caffeine and other mystery chemicals flood her system. Then, taking off the lid of the drink, Brittany poured the entire thing all over his rig. Into the tower. The monitor. On the keyboard. She double checked that all the equipment was still on, not wanting to risk him being able to clean it. There were damn good IT people out there, and Brittany didn’t want them ruining her revenge by doing their jobs.

There was something satisfying about watching the set up slowly glitch out. The screen pixelated beyond recognition. Noises were coming from the tower that it really shouldn’t have been able to make, and Brittany absorbed them like a symphony.

And then she pulled out her new favorite lipstick, the aptly named “Dirty Talk.” A dark red that advertised it was made to leave marks on whoever you kissed. Brittany thought it was nicely ironic, considering how much Robbie hated any talking during sex and got uncomfortable if she ever deviated from their usual routine.

She applied the red liberally, making sure to layer it. Robbie had always complained when Brittany wore red lipstick, said it made her look “cheap.” And he hadn’t been amused when Brittany laughed in his face and told him the lipstick was anything but cheap. That red flag should really have been enough to send her running. And honestly, Brittany didn’t know why it didn’t, other than he had said it in his usual joking manner and she hadn’t realized at the time he was being serious.Now, knowing what she knows, she would kick herself if she could.

Once she was satisfied with her lipstick application, Brittany took out the gift card Robbie had gotten her for her birthday, the one to the local seafood restaurant famous for its fresh crab, the one that sponsored Robbie. The one she knew for a fact he got for free. And the one she would never, ever use because of her deathly allergy to shellfish.

Very carefully, Brittany kissed the center of the gift card. She admired the perfect shape of her lip print, congratulating herself again on the purchase, and then placed it on the keyboard, right in the center so Robbie wouldn’t miss it.

“Brittany?”

She spun to find Gus staring at her, his eyes hard as he scanned the room and the destruction she had caused in the last few minutes.

Fuck.

Gus wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn’t even live in LA, but Brittany knew he would often visit Robbie. She just didn’t think this would be one of those weekends. Robbie hadn’t posted about it, and Gus didn’t have social media, but Brittany still felt like she should have known. They were friends, after all. Or, at least, they had been.

His eyes traveled to the rig, where the electronics were losing the war against the soda. The whirring noise from the tower must have drowned out Gus coming into the apartment. The plan had been to get in and get out, no witnesses, and now she had to deal with Robbie’s brother, the one person who could probably fix all of this before Robbie got back just by sheer force of will.

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