Page 66 of Official

SAMANTHA

That fucking asshole.

I groan in the bathroom of my parents’ home as cheerful music floats through the locked door. I’m not in the mood for a party. I’m more in the salty, give-me-a-knife emotional place because I could easily use it to tear up everything Jason loves the most in this world—his sneakers.

“S? Are you in there?” Val’s voice rises over the music as she taps on the door. “If it’s you, let me in. If it’s not, let me in, anyway, because I have to pee.”

I throw the door open and pull her inside.

“Oh, thank God it’s you.” She whirls around to face me. “For a second, I feared it was your uncle Hubert, who’s made quite a few passes at me tonight.”

“Youaresingle now,” I say weakly as I check my reflection, fluffing my wavy hair over both shoulders.

“Don’t even joke about me being that desperate.” She nudges me with her shoulder, and I sway sideways as she leans on the counter. “What are you in here stewing over?”

“I’m not stewing.” I cross both arms over my chest, my silk dress soft and smooth against my skin. “I’m plotting a murder of some prized sneakers.”

“Let me take my earrings out first,” she plays along, her laugh soft and comforting, but I know she would also chuck her shoes and kick some ass if I needed it.

She’s had my back since college, and her support has been a constant in my life.

We shared much more than a dorm and each other’s clothes. Val and I both aspired to work for ourselves someday. We didn’t know what our dreams would become or that we’d achieve more than we thought possible. In fact, we believed we were asking a lot in the bulleted entrepreneurial bucket list we crafted over virgin daiquiris during our freshman year.

But that list grew wings and flew.

Unlike my other friends, Val knows all too well what it’s like to run an unconventional business. She doesn’t get offended or angry when I have to miss drinks at a new club or sushi night in Malibu. Rather, Val understands the constant hustle required to be successful, and she never holds it against me, and vice versa. I get that her work requires odd hours too, and it’s how we’ve both gotten to where we are.

Although we’re in different industries, the dedication and sacrifices are similar, and I’ll always be grateful that we rose through the ranks together.

I’m lucky to have her here tonight too.

I unlock my phone and click play on the video—Jason’s latest and sleaziest move in this game I never agreed to play.

Jason’s voice quickly fills the bathroom, and he tells the world I’ve been lying about Xander. That Jason himself was my mystery guy, and he has hundreds of pictures to prove it. He ends the video with a laugh as he tells his viewers how manipulative and pathetic I am for stringing my followers along.

The worst part about it is that he’s right. I could do without his malicious tone and mockery, but Jason fuckingDoucheis right.

Xander was right about me too.

And the comments are spot-on, which make me want to throw up even more.

I care too much about my image to be and live what I preach—being totally honest and true about my successes, as well as my pitfalls. And this is my punishment for losing sight of my core values.

My other sentence is losing Xander.

It’s been four days since we returned from our trip. Well, I assume he’s back in LA, anyway. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the night of the wine and food festival. Since he gave voice to all my insecurities, then retreated like the scared little boy I realized he is.

We all have our flaws, but he used mine against me and ran away.

Each day that’s passed, I’ve alternated from pissed to hurt to sad, and then back from the beginning again in a painful cycle.

I thought our trip would be an innocent and fun escape, but it threw my world into more chaos than it was when I left it.

“I’m definitely taking my earrings out and heading straight to Jason’s.” Val hands the phone back to me. “I’ll call you when I’ve buried the body.”

For the first time tonight, I giggle. My best friend has that effect on me.

“I’m so glad you’re here, even though it’s not exactly a wild night, and my uncle is harassing you—I’ll talk to him, by the way,” I assure her.

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