Page 13 of Trouble in Love
Polly
September is one of the least humid months in Sydney… normally. But an early spring storm left rain pelting against my window, and my soft cotton sheets clinging to my body as I yawned and stretched my legs.
I wonder if it’s like this at home.
Home.
Imagining what those self-righteous assholes would think of last night’s shenanigans brought a sly smile to my face.
Slut. Whore. Skank. Hoochie. Slapper. Jezebel. Bimbo. Town bike. You name it. My once-stellar reputation as the daughter of successful local businessman Murray Hart was ruined. The fault lying directly at the feet of my former best friend. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel of Byron Bay, Evie Austen. And her equally nauseating husband, Nate. And for what?
A measly case of seduction, manipulation, and slight cyber-bullying?
Woopty-fucking-do.
In truth, the Austen-Myers scandal was the first notch in my bedpost. After harmless attempts to destroy my nemesis’s happiness resulted in marriage, a perfect little life, and perfect babies, I cut loose, dining out on a smorgasbord of hot, not-so-hot, and even a few average guys and girls. And what happened to me? I was slut-shamed, marked with the Scarlet Letter, and run out of town.
The double standard was blinding for two reasons.
One: Pre Evie—Nate Myers was the biggest manwhore Byron had ever seen. But were his escapades admonished? No. He may have been a bit of a joke, but overall, Nate was treated as a hero, labeled a real man’s man. Exonerated with the go-to claptrap of “boys will be boys,” “he’s just sowing his wild oats before settling down,” and all that other male privilege bullshit.
Two: Nothing was done to Evie that hadn’t been done to me.
In high school, she straight-up stole the then-love of my life, Luke Bailey.
Not only did she take him. She broke him. He then broke me. So, I broke her. At least, I tried to.
Ughh. I hate them.Not wanting to spend another second thinking ofthem, I used years of compartmentalizing to redirect my thoughts to something more enjoyable. More... rideable. “I can’t believe I didn’t get his name.” Releasing a squeal borne of equal parts frustration and thrill, I groaned, flopped onto my belly, and planted my face into my pillow. Some toddler-like flailing may have occurred, too, but all that stopped when Luna tapped me on the shoulder. Turning to face her, I waited for her to pop on her cochlear before offering her a calm-ish, “Good morning, sunshine!”
“Did I hear a girly squeal?”
“You sure did.”
Rumpled from sleep, she rubbed her eyes and stared. “Since when do you girly squeal?”
“Since I had my first taste of cowboy juice. Giddy up, babe.”
Luna sat against the headboard, naked as the day she was born and giving zero fucks about it, an evil smirk teasing her lips. “I’m pretty sure I—I mean, Katie—was the one tasting his juice, and yeah, we both agree it was pretty squeal-worthy. As was your grand finale. I can’t believe you took a photo of your snatch and left it on this phone.” Our laughter filled the air, but what Luna didn’t know was that I’d also left my number, something I hadn’t done with a guy since Nate the Mistake.
Shaking with giggles, I collapsed back onto Luna, resting on her thigh as I stared up at the ceiling, not wondering or hoping whether he’d call. “Hey, that mouth and those eyes deserved a lasting memory. I swear, Loon. I’ve never come so hard.”
Luna gasped and slapped my shoulder, “Never? Not even with me… or Katie?”
“Sorry, babe. Cowboy and his talented tongue have stolen prime position. Now stop bitching and get up. We got shit to do.”
A lot of it, too. The day’s to-do list included my daily workout, a gynecologist appointment at twelve, and an ASL refresher session at the advocacy group where Luna and I volunteered. Friends were a rarity for me, but Luna had attached herself to my hip during my first day there, and there was no getting rid of her, especially after we discovered our kindred kinks. She even got me a job at her family’s snooty restaurant. She was exactly what I needed when I first arrived in Sydney. For what was to come that day, too.
“Why the fuck can’t they make these things easier to put on?” Blinding light was the first thing I saw when my head popped through the neck hole of the fetching paper gown.
“Because then your bestie wouldn’t be able to take photos like this.”
“Bitch, you could have helped me, you know.”
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have gotten the photo, duh.” She turned her phone to show me her handy work.
“Good lord.” Fighting laughter, I tried to snatch her phone but failed. “Delete it now. I look like a bear coming out of hibernation.”
“Kind of, yeah. But a cute bear all the same.” She snapped one more pic, this time of my ass hanging out the gap at the back. “You know what? I’ve never noticed how short your arms are. You’re more of a T-Rex than a bear.”
