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Chapter 9

"I'm not gonna be the third wheel," I said, unable to keep it in. Alcohol had a way of loosening my tongue.

Rhonda sighed.

"Come on, blondie, don't kill the fun." She pulled me into a hug, smothering my face with kisses until I laughed at her nonsense. "Did Silversteel bark at you for stealing her time?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Nonsense, she's..."

"She's what?" Rhonda pressed, with John at her side, both staring at me.

"She knows a ton about culture, some of it totally bizarre," I laughed. "She's funny as hell, like she always knows the exact moment I need it. She can cook, too... I haven't tasted it, but her food pics make you drool. And her voice... wow, it's fucking sexy."

John's smile vanished instantly.

"Mia, remember it's just someone behind a screen. Don't fall in love, or she'll tear you apart."

I blinked and shook my head hard, as if I could shake the thought right out.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not in love. We're just two people who happened to become friends." I wanted to keep defending myself, but Rhonda and John kept staring at me in disbelief. "I'm telling you the truth," I clenched my fist and stomped on the floor.

Rhonda burst out laughing.

"God, you haven't done that since you were knee-high."

"And you weren't much taller back then."

"I was the tallest," John chimed in with a grin. "Walking around with two runts, people used to ask if you were my pocket dolls."

We both smacked him at the same time, and at least that was enough to steer the conversation away from Silversteel. Still, my head stayed with her.

Because it was perfectly natural to imagine the face behind that electrifying voice. The closeness we'd built, combined with the fact that we lived in the same city, only sharpened my curiosity. What if I had already crossed paths with her without knowing?

Rhonda pulled out her phone again, determined to get another one of our ridiculous photos. We had way too many on Instagram already. It had become almost ritual, a mantra, something we even used to annoy our families, who always begged us to pose properly... but we always ended up making fools of ourselves on purpose.

There wasn't a single decent high school picture. Whenever the three of us posed together our faces looked absolutely awful. Rhonda used to joke that at least it made the less photogenic kids in our class feel better about themselves.

Now when we looked back at them we couldn't stop laughing. We couldn't have looked uglier if we tried, not one of us came out well.

"Scott must have insomnia," Rhonda laughed.

John's face changed instantly. I was drunk, but even then I noticed.

"And who exactly is this Scott?" His tone was so flat I burst out laughing. He shot me a murderous look.

I shook my head.

"I swear I never thought I'd see you this openly jealous. Relax. Scott is Scott Peterman, the designer who hired Rhonda to walk in his show." John's scowl didn't budge, so I added through laughter, "He's gay, and he doesn't exactly keep it a secret."

"Oh." He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed, and turned crimson while Rhonda and I doubled over.

"And why'd you say he has insomnia?" he asked, desperate to cover himself.