Page 24 of Strung Along

“This is all you, Ice,” Poppy urges her best friend. The nickname is new to me, and I make sure to make note of it.

Bryce hides her face behind her hands and sighs. “We went to Vic’s, didn’t we? Her favourite colour is pink.”

“Oh, we went to Vic’s alright. After the both of you got ten shots of tequila deep and demanded we leave the bar. The moment we stepped outside, you started ranting about Vic and explained to Anna here about what happened between you. Then, we spent a solid half hour painting pink dicks all over her front fence before the devil herself nearly caught us,” Poppy explains, face red with the effort it’s taking her not to laugh.

I roll my lips and blink slowly, trying to pry open my memories in search of what happened, but I come up empty. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Fuck my life,” Bryce mutters. She drags herself to my bed and throws herself onto her back, the mattress shifting with her weight. “She’s going to try to ruin my life now.”

I sit up and stare at the top of her head. “I hate to say this, but I don’t remember anything about Vic or what we did last night. I’m sorry.”

“Long story short, Vic tried to bring a third person into their relationship, and when Bryce said she wasn’t comfortable with that, she dumped her on the curb and dated him instead. The first time Bryce saw them together, she kicked the guy hard enough in the crotch that she cracked his dick like a glowstick. She spent the night in a jail cell until I came and got her. Luckily,Vic had the decency to feel guilty enough to convince him not to press charges,” Poppy explains.

“I’d say the pink dicks were only fitting, then,” I declare.

Bryce tilts her head back and gives me a half-smile, pushing her fingers through her knotted hair. “I’m scared to turn my phone on. If she saw it were us, there’s no telling what she’ll do now.”

“This is karma, babes,” Poppy says.

I nod. “This isn’t any worse than what I did to Stewart’s things after I found him cheating. If anything, this is less evil.”

Poppy leans her shoulder against the door frame. “This isn’t all that out of character for you either. No offense, but you’re not a terribly sweet person.”

“That’s not exactly true. I can be sweet,” Bryce corrects her.

“You can, just not to many people. There’s nothing wrong with that, B. I just don’t want you to start thinking poorly of yourself because of something you did not only just out of anger and hurt but under the influence of tequila, of all things. What’s done is done, and if I’m being honest, that little witch deserved it,” Poppy explains.

The adoration heavy in her words, despite the seriousness of the conversation, makes my chest warm. I had this same support from Braxton, but I’ve never had friends like Bryce and Poppy. Having someone who isn’t family that chooses to love you in the same way is an experience I haven’t had in my life yet.

I’ve had friends in the past, but none that clicked the way the three of us have over the past few days. This friendship makes me hopeful that Cherry Peak really could be my new home. A real one and not just a passing blip on a map.

“You’re worth more than what she did to you,” I tell Bryce.

She nods appreciatively, some of the shadows in her features disappearing. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Alright, it’s time for you two to eat. Get dressed and come have the bagels I braved the cold this morning to get for you. You need something to soak up all that booze,” Poppy says a beat later.

Without another word, she turns on her heel and heads for the kitchen. Bryce laughs, flashing me a final smile before pushing herself off the bed and following our friend.

“Toothbrushes are in the bottom drawer in the guest bath!” I shout, getting athank youin return.

Once I’m alone again, I heave a sigh and reach for my phone on my nightstand.

The stretch along my side as I bend is tight, and I mentally curse Poppy for the soreness in my muscles a couple of days after my first pole class. I could hardly move yesterday, and it’s only gotten worse.

My stomach threatens to shoot through my throat when I swipe along the notifications on my phone and spot the newest text message. Terror spikes.

Bo: Good morning.

Bo: Sorry I didn’t answer you last night, my phone was off.

As I open the conversation, my cheeks burn like they’ve been lit on fire. Fuck. My. Life.

Me: Hi. I know we said 1 night but I changed mi mind.

Me: Sorry that was weiiiiird to say