Page 50 of A Little Jaded
Finley’s grin widens. “To be fair, you’re the one who brought it up.”
“You know what?” Dylan huffs. “One of these days, I really am gonna get a frog so I can threaten you with it.”
And just like that, the blood drains from Finley’s face. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”
Confused by the chilly shift in the air, I ask, “I’m sorry, what did I miss?”
“Finley’s terrified of frogs,” Ophelia informs me as she starts digging through the cabinets for…something.
“I’m sorry, but who isn’t terrified of frogs?” Finley argues. “They’re slimy and squishy and unpredictable and?—”
“And the bane of Finley’s existence.” Dylan’s Cheshire grin is contagious, but I bite mine back and dig my teeth into the insides of my cheeks as she turns to me and adds, “They’re also the only leverage actually keeping Finley in check.”
“Har, har,” Finley grumbles under her breath. “At least my fear has merit. You and your aversion to anything pink and glittery is absolutely ridiculous.”
“I won’t crap my pants if I see something glittery,” Dylan argues. “Unlike you and your?—”
“Okay, enough fighting,” Ophelia interrupts. She opens the freezer and rummages through the shelves. “Fin, do youthink your parents stashed any of Grandma’s famous cookie dough in here before they left?”
Finley scoffs. “You really think there’s ever any leftovers of that gold?”
“But I’m craving it,” Ophelia pouts.
“Can’t you call and ask for the recipe?” I chime in before I’m pinned with three pairs of eyes. Squirming from their scrutiny, I tug at my long sleeves and fold my arms. “What? Is that not an option?”
With a disgruntled push, Ophelia closes the freezer door. “Sometimes I forget most people look at recipes like they shouldn’t be held under lock and key.”
“Yeah, and then there’s our family,” Finley quips. She pulls out a bag of Cheetos and sets it beside a bottle of Diet Coke. “Don’t worry, though. I’ve helped my mom and grandma make those cookies a thousand times. I’m pretty sure I can remember the ratios.”
Pointing her finger at Finley, Dylan says, “You better because after your fight with Drew last night, you deserve the chocolate fix more than anyone.”
Finley folds her arms. “Who said I had a fight with Drew?”
“Come on. It doesn’t take a genius to overhear you screaming in your room,” argues Ophelia.
“I wasn’t screaming,” Finley defends. “I was…scolding. Loudly.”
“Because that’s what a boyfriend needs. A loud scolding from his girlfriend.” Ophelia snorts. “Take it or leave it, but in my opinion, the only time a guy should make you scream is when you’re riding his?—”
“Lia!” Dylan squeals.
“Yeah, I feel like that’s something I would say, not you.” Finley tilts her head and rocks back on her heels, tapping her finger against her chin as she studies Ophelia. “I don’t knowif I should be offended or impressed. What do you think, Raine?”
“I think Ophelia’s onto something,” I admit.
“Yeah, Maverick’s dick,” Finley quips.
“Oh, shut up.” Ophelia smacks her friend’s shoulder, folds her arms, and turns to me. “You were saying, Raine?”
“I was saying that even though I think you make a good point, I’m not sure I’m the best person to give relationship advice, so…”
Finley laughs. “Good point. Speaking of which, how was your first night with my brother, anyway?”
“Fine.” I shrug. “We made lasagna, then went to bed.”
“Lasagna, huh?” Dylan smirks at her friends, sits at the granite island, and rests her chin in her hands. “Interesting.”
“And why is it interesting?”