She's not getting mad. She's getting even.
Lola Melese has it all: a great job, the worlds most entertaining best friend, a loving boyfriend and a squeaky clean reputation.
That is until her all-american boyfriend cheats.
Now, Lola's regarded as the...
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mess it up | gracie abrams ❝ cause every time i get too close, i just go mess it up i keep thinking maybe if you let me back in we can make it better, breaking every habit ❞
EMMA'S PLIANT BODY sinks itself on mine as soon as Lola's widened eyes disappear once she Usain Bolted out of the doorway.
I get up so quickly that Emma shrieks as she topples over the top of me. "Tate!" She yells, balancing herself on the unnecessarily large marble counter.
"Shit, sorry," I begin, "I've just got to—" I nod over to the wide open door.
"You guys are really talking?" Emma frowns, fixing up her mini red dress that has ridden up exposing her lacy underwear.
Fuck, I shut my eyes closed. I don't even know how I went from staring at Lola on the dancefloor as she moved that gorgeous body of hers to making out with Emma.
It's such a dick move. I— fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Yeah," I answer, looking away from Emma as she also readjusts the top of her dress.
"Poor Lola," she frowns, hiking up her bra strap as she comes into view. "I thought the thing between you guys was a set-up." Then as if remembering something Emma's palm slaps against my cheek.
The end of her nails catch at my jaw and I cry out in pain. "What the fuck, Emma!" I clutch my throbbing skin with my hand as the stinging rings out across my cheek.
"Dickhead." She scoffs.
I shake my head. "What?" Is she insane? I thought after the whole Cole and handcuff situation she'd be a little more tame, but this is next level.
"You don't go cheat on the girl who's just been cheated on!" She seethes, raising her hand again.
I grab her wrist and place it down, "Calm down Hulk and I— Wait what? Did you just say cheat?" I am not a cheater.
I am not Amos fucking Whitaker.
"I can't believe I'm the other woman, right now." Emma makes a sound at the back of her throat and shrugs her hand out of my grip.
"Don't tell me I jus— Lola," I breathe out. Fuck. What have I just done?
Without even thinking, I run out the door of the bathroom and make a beeline for where I know Amethyst is the most likely to be...the kitchen where the drinks are.
I arrive with a throbbing headache and a bad taste in my mouth. "Where's Lola?" I ask Brooke, who's got Amethyst leaning against the kitchen countertop as he throws cheese balls into her drunkenly opened mouth.
He pauses mid-launch and guiltily straightens up. "Uh—" Brooke begins, dropping his hand by his side. "Dunno, she needed to go to the bathroom."
"Yeah, I know that. But did she come back out or—"
