The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(35)
Author: J.C. Reed

I beamed at her. “Same as always.”

God, I loved Sylvie.

My gaze followed her as she got up and crossed the room. She was almost out the door when I called out, “Sylvie?”

She stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re such a good friend. I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

A mysterious smile lit up her glossy lips. “I’m not a good friend.” I frowned and she let out a soft laugh. “A good friend knows about your best days, but a best friend has lived through all your worst. See the difference?” she whispered. “I’m your best friend, Brooke. Guys will come and go and break you in pieces, but I will always be here to mend you again.”

“Then you’re my Super Glue,” I said, laughing.

“Damn right I am.” She flashed another smile and picked up the phone to order our lunch.

Chapter 18

The whole day passed in a blur. Sylvie tried to distract me with movies and food, but I constantly found myself checking my phone like an obsessive lunatic. Jett didn’t contact me. No calls. No messages. Nothing to indicate that he wanted to work things out. His indifference was a blessing and helped to put things in perspective, but even though I should have been thankful, it bothered me.

The more I pored over Sylvie’s words, the more I wondered what Jett had been doing at the club and what had stopped him from telling me the truth, and, of course, why my foolish brain couldn’t stop thinking about him. I cursed my weakness for him. Hour after hour, I wished my feelings for him far away, and they kept crawling back like ants to sweets.

I wanted to forget him, but at the same time, I wanted to hear from him. I wanted to see him in pain while wishing him nothing but the best. So many conflicting emotions twisted into an ever-present knot of contradiction and impatience.

I had to get a grip. And fast, before my life stopped belonging to me, and Jett became the sole focus of my attention.

At 6:45 p.m., Thalia picked me up from around the corner, the same place where she’d dropped me off before, and we made our way to Grayson’s studio. From the corner of my eyes, I glanced at her gorgeous, yellow, lacy dress, complete with stockings and black high heels. Her glossy, long hair was tied up in a complicated burlesque hairstyle, with beautifully defined curls and waves added to the sides and front, complementing her pretty face.

Something wafted from her, an air of confidence that brushed over me and made me feel different. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I allowed her enthusiasm and congeniality to wash over me and make me feel at ease. Listening to her chatter, I actually looked forward to spending time with her.

Sylvie was the best friend who would always be there for me, and I usually loved her company, but at the moment, I welcomed the break. Sylvie was, simply put, a bit too much at the moment, with her constant probing and need for assurance that I was okay, especially when things couldn’t have been further from the truth. Thalia made conversation simple, and she had an easygoing attitude. She didn’t really know me, so she didn’t try see through the façade behind which I was hiding.

“How was your night with your special stranger?” she asked when we stopped to wait for a light to turn green. Her face turned briefly to regard me while her fingers kept tapping on the steering wheel to the music playing on the radio.

“It was okay, I guess.” I kept my voice light as my mind searched through all the possible answers I could give. “He was nice and took me home, and that was about it.”

“Nothing happened?” She turned her head to me. “Not even a kiss?” Her surprise reflected in the soft line on her forehead, but her tone remained unchanged. She had no reason to doubt me, so lying to her came easy.

I shook my head. “I kept feeling sick. Guess I had too much of Gina’s favorite cocktail.”

At least the first part was true.

Now was the time to ask about Gina, but for some reason I couldn’t. Thalia had been such a good friend and she had helped me get a job. I couldn’t afford to piss her off by accusing her friend of spiking my drink. What if hers had been spiked, too, and she knew about it all along? Instead of bringing that up, I recounted my interview with Grayson and his request that I posed nude.

“Where do you get your confidence from?” I asked when the lights changed and she hit the accelerator.

“It’s really about doing what you believe in,” Thalia said. “For me, confidence doesn’t come with natural beauty. You can be beautiful but still not feel sexy and, hence, have no confidence. Confidence comes when you feel good about yourself and whatever you’re doing. For me, that’s when my hair’s curled and I wear red, waterproof lipstick.” She turned briefly to me and laughed out loud. “Your problem isn’t that you aren’t confident or sexy, Jenna. Your problem is that you try too hard to be like others. When you blend in, you become one of many and so you don’t allow yourself to be unique. Maybe you should care less about what people say and do, and focus more on becoming the real you.”

She grimaced and changed the radio station until she was happy with the music. Her fingers began to tap to the new rhythm almost instantly, and then she continued, “It’s the only way you should be: simply you. Knowing that there’s just one of you in the world, you should be proud of posing nude. Naturally, me being me is what gives me confidence.”

The car slowed as we took a narrow left turn, and then Thalia hit the accelerator with so much force I held onto my seat for support.

I swallowed the bile in my throat as I was briefly reminded of Jett’s driving. He was a maniac in that department, as in so many others. He lived hard and loved harder. Relationships with men like him always come with an expiry date. It was just too bad I had to learn it the hard way.

Half an hour later, we arrived at Grayson’s. Thalia locked up the car and we headed up to the studio, which, according to Thalia, had been rented out for a gallery event for the night. The guests hadn’t arrived yet, which left us enough time to look around and get changed on time.

The bare walls of the studio had been transformed. Paintings and pictures in black and green hung on the walls, and tables with champagne and delicious appetizers lined the far left side, near the tall windows. I had been assured that the job would be simple. Gina, Thalia and I were instructed to dress up, then pose behind a glass wall like mannequins, and the rest of the girls had to talk and entertain guests.