Page 4 of Never Been Worse

“What’s going on?” I ask, standing as well. Whatever is going on, I want to go with him because it’sboundto be entertaining. Plus, there’s not much else I can do here. I need some time to think of a good solution, and it sounds like Riggs and Stella might need some alone time.

“Ava, Jules, and Harper all just got arrested,” he says, shrugging on his jacket as Reed snorts out a laugh.

“What? How?”

“Harper’s boyfriend dumped her after cheating on her. I heard them the other day, planning this crazy shit. I didn’t think to stop it because I figured it was just them venting.”

“Bad call,” I say low, knowing Ava, and Jaime nods.

“They glittered the man’s lawn.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Leo asks, also standing to leave.

“They dumped pounds of glitter on his lawn, covered it in dish soap, and, according to Ava, got caught halfway through forking it.”

“Awesome,” Reed says, and Jaime glares at him.

“Not awesome. Now she’s being charged with vandalism, stalking, and harassment.” He pauses. “And littering. I’ll see you guys later.”

“I’m coming,” I say, the decision fully made as soon as he mentioned Harper’s name.

“Why?”

“Because this will be entertaining. And you never know when a famous face can help you out.”

Jaime opens his mouth to argue but looks at me, then at the clock, and shakes his head.

“Whatever. I don’t have time to argue with you about this,” he says, then heads out the door, me on his tail.

THREE

HARPER

My timing has never been great, but I have to say, I think today takes the cake.

There was the time in middle school when I got my period for the very first time. The same day I wore the white jeans I begged my mother to buy me for months.

And the time I went on my first date after spending the day telling myself my tummy hurt because I was nervous, only to barf right on my date’s shoes when he came to the door to pick me up.

But today, when I walked in an hour early after spending the day with my two best friends to find my boyfriend making out hot and heavy with his boss’s daughter on our kitchen table is probably the worst.

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” I ask, staring at him as he moves away from the young woman with casual ease, not like a man concerned he was just caught. She, at least, has the decency to look slightly embarrassed as she sits back and straightens her shirt.

“You weren’t supposed to be home until eight,” Jeremy says, as if this is all somehow my fault. He slowly shifts and moves his hands to organize the piles of papers on the table in front of him.

“I forgot something here,” I say, no longer remembering what exactly I forgot. I think I’m in some sort of alternate reality, because I must be imagining the scene in front of me. “What is…what is going on here? How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, probably, what?” the blonde asks, losing whatever shame she had and putting on a bitchy smile. I’d only met her briefly in the past, and she seemed nice enough, but the conniving look in her eyes has me wondering if it was always a facade. “A year?”

“A year?” I ask incredulously. “How…how did this happen?” I don’t actually want the details, but it’s like I’m frozen here, unable to move or think or show any sign of self-preservation.

Jeremy stands, starting to stack the papers while he explains. “Clarissa came up to me because I was presenting the suggestions you helped me with—” I open my mouth to remind him those tweaks I’d given him on the pieces he showed me were presented to me as a way for him to talk to his boss about me. He’d told me my suggestions would help get my foot in the door, not something he would take credit for, but he keeps speaking. “And she told me she was having her debut this year with a legacy line. She was feeling uninspired and needed some guidance. I’ve been helping her, and things just…escalated.”

I stand there dumbfounded, trying to say something, anything, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

“You know, when your needs aren’t being met, you need to go elsewhere,” Clarissa says with a snide smile I want to smack off her. Didn’t she just do a press interview calling herself a girls’ girl?

“What does she have that I don't?” I ask Jeremy, my voice low and careful. Even now, in this state, I know I’ll regret asking that, much less in front of the woman he chose over me, but my grip on reality and common sense is quickly diminishing.

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