“Yeah,” he murmured, looking down at me, “but you knew about the bet, didn’t you?”
“I know,” I murmured half-heartedly.
“Which is why you let him think he was playing such a good game all night,” Tray mused.
“Look,” I breathed out, “I’m not really up for it right now. I’m only here because there’s nowhere else I can go where I’ll be left alone. And I can’t exactly drive yet.”
“You’re not driving regardless,” Tray said smoothly, lying beside me.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Oh yeah you are.” He laughed. “I counted every drink I gave you. You had seven shots and at least eight beers. You might not feel drunk, but you are.”
“Like you’d know,” I snapped. “I just got yelled at by my best friend.”
“Who was about to get the shit beat out of him,” Tray noted, dryly.
“Shut up. What do you know?”
“More than you. I’m sober.”
“Look. We’re not in a relationship and just because we’re screwing doesn’t mean you need to come and comfort me, you know,” I said crossly.
Tray laughed. “Oh, I’m not coming to comfort you.”
I looked at him, seeing his grinning face beside mine on the pillow. “What are you doing then?”
“I came in to warn you.”
Oh for the love…
“Warn me about…?” I let the question hang between us.
He grinned another moment and then delivered the news, “Mandy found Devon and Jasmine having sex.”
Oh fuck.
“Carter wanted me to find you. Mandy’s gone psycho,” he said bluntly.
I shoved off the bed and led the way. Outside, I could hear her screech over the music and crowd. I pushed through the circle that had formed and found Mandy, looking—psycho—with Devon and Jasmine, both of them half-dressed.
Oh. Fucking shit—they’d been screwing on the couch. In freaking plain eyesight.
Morons.
They deserved whatever Mandy dished out to them.
“You are such a slut!” Mandy shrieked. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were my friend!”
“Oh please,” Jasmine retorted. “All you give a damn about is your perfect life! It’s no wonder that Devon called me four times a week when y’all were together. He was practically begging me for it. You were so fucking frigid, you could have froze his dick off!”
Huh—I needed to remember that one.
“Oh please,” Mandy parroted furiously. “How much does it hurt, Jasmine? Knowing that you’re the girl the guys go to second. You’re just second class,” she finished scathingly.
Yep. Mandy needed no help here.
Carter shifted next to me. “Hey,” he said, “you going to stop this?”