Page 10 of Scandalous

I think that’s when my crush on them started. Then I started to talk to them personally. I’ve had small conversations with them all over the years and they couldn’t be more different if they tried. I have no idea how they became friends, but they are tight as fuck. It’s well known that not one woman has been able to penetrate their tight-knit group.

Honestly, I wish I could hate them for living off mommy and daddy’s dime, but the four of them have taken their trust funds and added to them. What started as some fun college guy posts quickly turned into brand deals and endorsements for all of them, and as someone who also makes a living off posting on social media, I can’t hate them.

They took that and started doing parties for the elite, invite only. Kind of like Paris Hilton did in the early 2000s. If you are somebody, then you are invited, and apparently, a following of over two million people doesn’t make me a somebody. No matter how badly I wish it did. As much as being seen with them would elevate my career, that’s not why I want an invite. Secretly, I just want to be that one girl who changes everyone. I want to be the one they want to induct into their group and keep around.

Sure, I have the desire to be with each of them, but honestly, I’m envious of their loyalty to one another. I have Holland, but other than her, I haven’t really ever had a real family. Not like them.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” I mumble to myself as I push off the counter and head toward my bathroom to take a shower.

After showering, I put on a light face of makeup and film a couple of ads before scheduling them to post at the hot times. Social media is a beast that’s always changing. You never know what they will want from you next. Once done with that, I answer a few emails before jumping into my homework.

When I was a senior in high school, my parents sat me down and explained that there would be no way for them to help me financially. So if I wanted to go to college and get out of our small town, I was on my own. I already knew the talk was coming, but hearing the confirmation was still a punch in the gut. Ever since, I’ve worked my ass off and put myself through college. Between my two jobs and scholarships, I’ve put myself through NYU to get my communications degree. Ideally, I would like to be a social media manager, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on public relations.

Imagine what your professors would say if they knew you commented on a man’s cock,I think to myself, cringing.

Not your finest moment, Aurora.

My phone vibrates on the counter, getting my attention.

I see the photo icon and know it’s either someone’s sent me a private message or tagged me in a post. Opening the app, I hit the message icon and see one from The.Brit. Hesitantly, I open the message and can’t help but gasp.

The.Brit: Do you need any more proof, love?

Four

Ican’t help but chuckle when the tiny three dots appear on the screen and disappear, time and time again.

I guess I left the brat speechless this time.

Moving the blanket, I slide out of bed and grab my briefs off the edge of the bed, putting them back on.

It was a risky move sending her the picture. She could send it out to the world and gain a ton of followers, but for some reason, I think she won’t.

Instead, I imagine her lying on her bed, her hand slipping into her panties as she looks at it. The way she’d be a little whore for me. My dick hardens even more at the thought.

“What are you up to?” I hear from behind me.

Turning, I face Liam. “Just handling a little something.”

“Oh really? Because from the looks of it, you didn’t handle it. Need a hand?” He smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“Piss off.”

Liam may be bisexual, but he knows there are lines that won’t be crossed. I don’t care what he does with his dick as long as it doesn’t come near me.

“Seriously though, what were you doing?” he asks as he walks into the room, making himself comfortable on my bed as I get dressed.

I grit my teeth. I don’t want to admit it, but we don’t keep secrets.

Clearing my throat, I say, “She said I had a micropenis, so I proved her wrong.”

“Let me guess, by she, you mean the beautiful Aurora Blake. Tsk, tsk. You’re the one always telling us she’s the devil.”

“What about Aurora?” Drake asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is it a party in my room all of a sudden?” I ask as I get dressed.

“Apparently she told our boy he wasn’t packing anything.” Liam smirks.

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