Chapter 7

“Earth to Jameson.”

My head snaps left, and the girls laugh.

“Girl, what’s with you?” Cali passes me my coffee, but before I can grab it from her hands, she pulls back, a nasty frown taking over her face as she stares at the paper cup. “They can’t even wipe the edges. If this shit would have dripped on my top, I swear to God.”

“It’s fine.” I stick my hand out farther.

“You sure, because I can totally tell him to make you another one?” She speaks loudly, and I don’t have to glance over to know the baristas are looking this way. “The least they can do is give us clean cups.”

“As long as all my espresso shots are in there, I’m sure.” I wrap my fingers around the lower part of the cup, and though she hesitates a split second, she releases it the next.

The cup is not ‘dirty,’ it simply has a small drip that slipped from the side when the lid was put on; it happens sometimes when you get extra shots but still want the same amount of frothed milk and an indulgent amount of whipped cream.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re already going to be late for class.”

“Speaking of ‘class,’ remind me again why we agreed to go to your parents’ benefit dinner this weekend, Cali?” Jules complains. “You said last week they could fuck off when they demanded your presence.”

“That was before I found out my dad’s gorgeous, self-righteous business partner would be making a surprise appearance.”

“Wait, what?!” Jules grips Cali’s elbow, stopping us dead in the center of the promenade. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

I look from Jules to Cali. “What am I missing?”

“All junior year, Cali was an intern under the guy, her dad’s company had set it up. The guy told her he loved her on Christmas Eve, fucked her Christmas Day, and then left on some business trip, completely cutting her off, not twenty-four hours later.” Jules looks to Cali.

Cali clears her throat. “And came to my parents’ party on Valentine’s Day... announcing he had a fiancée.”

My jaw drops and the girls both laugh.

“Honestly, I’m over it,” Cali swears, sounding as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than us, and we start walking again. “He can choke on his future wife’s cum for all I care, but that doesn’t mean I’m not looking forward to him laying eyes on my birthday present.” She wiggles her chest proudly, a boob job, a totally normal gift for an eighteen-year-old high school senior.