OBSESSED

52

Isabelle was sitting on one of the rockers on my porch when I turned around. She was dressed in skin-tight, distressed black jeans and a plunging singlet that flaunted her cleavage.

"Heyo, hottie," she greeted me with a smirk. "Look at you, showing out."

I winked as I tottered over on my heels. "Thanks, Iz. I do feel slightly overdressed, though. What exactly are we doing?"

She waved me off. "You look perfect, stop stressing." Her eyes flickered over to something behind me and she arched a brow. "By the way, are you aware that you have a bird nest in your plant?"

I chuckled but turned to see what she was talking about.

There was indeed a cluster of pine straw and sticks tangled in the branches of my artificial shrub. I couldn't keep any real plants alive and my sad little porch seriously needed the pop of green.

"Wow, so astute of you," I joked. "Let's get going."

Shrugging, she jumped up from the rocker and headed back to the car. "Just saying. Birds will poop all over your pretty furniture."

"Sounds like a later me problem."

We piled into her car and headed out of my quiet little neighborhood. I thought the conversation had ended but she continued, clearly troubled.

"It's just really weird," she told me. "That plant is fake, right? Birds usually don't nest in those."

"Maybe I've got stupid birds. I don't know, Isabelle." Laughing, I turned on our favorite song, Blurred Lines, and said, "I'll take care of it later. I mean, they haven't caused any issues yet. Maybe I should let them stay a little longer. Deforestation and all that."

"Okay, well, don't call me when you need help scraping bird shit off your porch," she huffed. "That's all I'm saying, Bird Girl."

Snorting, I reached for the volume knob and turned the song up louder. We started to sing the words together and soon the topic of my new porch residents was long forgotten.

After a few minutes of singing and catching up on gossip from the week, I realized we weren't heading to the club. I turned down to music and was immediately subjected to Isabelle's scowl.

"Unless there's some other club I don't know about in this town," I said, "we are not going to the club."

"What a good little detective you are!" She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "We are indeed not going to the club."

"So, where are you taking me then?"

"You'll see. We can't ruin the surprise."

Groaning, I dipped my head back against the seat. Isabelle smirked over at me with her painted lips and long eyelashes.

"You have been in the dumps all week, so it is my best friend duty to make that all better," she told me. "We are forgetting that creep who fucked you like a bass drum."

Jesus. Well, it was pretty true.

"The only way I'm forgetting is with a gallon of rum and vodka, so I hope alcohol is involved in this evil scheme of yours."

"Of course! We will have wine and beer at the main event, but we can hit it really hard after. Tonight is all about you, boo. We'll do whatever you want."

I smiled in spite of myself. It would be good to have a girls' night and focus on having fun. I wondered why this main event didn't have liquor, but I was not about to complain.