Page 86 of Siren's Game

Well, at least until I hear a loud knock on my door.

I walk over there on tiptoes, shrugging off my high heels that I'm apparently still wearing but am only just now noticing. Thank God this part of the living room is carpeted. I want to check who’s there first before confirming my presence.

A relieved sigh fogs up my door spy when I see it's Millie who’s standing in front of my door with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Open up, Kayla. I know you're home." She doesn’t sound as angry as she looks. I take a deep breath and force a mask on my face. All I want to do is drown in self-pity, but now that Millie is here, I know she won’t let that happen.

"What are you, a mind reader?" I open the door for her, and she struts right past me. "Damn. What's up?"

"What's up is that you're again bottling everything up instead of fuckingtalking," she scolds me exasperatedly and kicks her shoes into a corner before she heads straight for my kitchen and takes a bottle of champagne out of my fridge, pushing it against my chest. "Open this."

I'm getting whiplash from the way she changes topics, but I do as she asks, carefully trying to pry the cork out of the bottle without having it dart against the ceiling and getting a champagne shower. Which I've only learned recently is not, in fact, what a 'golden shower' is. Very good knowledge to have.

I sigh, relieved, when the cork is finally out and head to my kitchen to find two glasses.

"Skip the glasses and come here," she shouts when I open my cupboard and I turn around on my heels.

Angry Millie is scary.

When I come into sight, champagne bottle clutched to my chest, she pats the couch next to her, signaling for me to sit down.

The two of us must be a sight to behold. Dressed to the nines while hanging out on a couch barefoot and sipping expensive champagne straight from the bottle. We should make a music video of that.

She takes a huge swig, and then motions for me to take a sip as well. I gulp the prickly liquid down and wipe a drop from the corner of my mouth before I hand the bottle back to her.

"Trying to get me drunk?" I raise my eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t seem too impressed at my attempt to lighten the mood.

"Makes your tongue looser," she says with a wink and takes a smaller sip this time. "And it's past time we've had a semi-comfortable conversation. Well, what I assume is going to be semi-comfortable for you."

"Which is?" I reach for the bottle again and take a greedy sip. If she announces it like this, I need more alcohol.

"First off, I'm sorry." She takes the bottle out of my hands and places it on the ground, then turns to me, pulling her leg onto the couch and leaning her elbow onto the backrest and her chin into her hand.

I blink, confused. Whiplash, once again.

"I was so caught up in Luca and what was happening between us that I didn't pay as much attention to you as I should have," she admits, and I see her gulp. "I never wanted to be the woman who neglects her friends once she got a new boyfriend. I'm so sorry for not being there more. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about your fake relationship."

"It's fine," I say softly and wave her off. "After all, we fabricated it this way so the two of you would have time together."

"Which brings me to what I'm actually angry about." Her voice gets more heated, and she purses her lips in a pout. "Don't do this kind of shit again. Don't play martyr, or at least fucking talk to me beforehand." She takes another swig from the bottle as she talks herself into a rage. "You're my best friend. I like you way too much for you to pull this kind of stuff and hurt yourself as a consequence."

"I mean I didn't know it would end up with me hurting—" I start, but she cuts me off with an eye roll and deep sigh.

"Oh, please. You read romance novels. You know how the fake dating trope works out."

Well, she's got me there.

"I really thought I could do it," I reiterate, making her glare at me. "Honestly." I raise my hand, palm facing her. "I swear. You know me and my ‘oh, that sounds easy’ syndrome."

"But why didn't you tell me?" Her voice breaks and she suddenly looks more hurt than angry. "It would have been so much more fun to be in this together. You could have talked to me instead of, again, internalizing everything. Like what's going on with Starlet Sounds, why did you never tell me you wanted out and what was actually going on?"

"Because I was really fucking scared you’d hate me," I admit and look down, unable to meet her eyes. “They promised they’d change.” Now I know that was a lie. Naroa's niceness just distracted from the shitshow up above her pulled on us. "But you're right. I should have talked to you instead of springing everything on you now. I'm sorry."

"Good. You should be." She scrunches her nose. I reach for the bottle on the ground to take another small sip.

"Now, back to you and Asher."

"There's no 'me and Asher' anymore," I object, and she puts her hand over my mouth to shush me.

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