Some say getting out of The Friend Zone is hard. Well, try getting out of The Sister Zone.
Vanessa Hayes-Wong has been best friends with Oliver Morrison for five years, one month, and fourteen days. Just as she starts to realize her feelings for him...
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"Say aah . . ." Nessa brings a piece of smoked salmon bites to her date's mouth, and he complies with her sickening request.
The flames of jealousy in my chest turn into a blaze at the nauseating, lovey-dovey attitude. I shift my gaze to the square pieces of smoked salmon bites on Nessa's plate. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the soft Mexican flatbread, the delightful cream cheese in between the stacks of tortillas and fish, and the irresistible smoked salmon.
I stretch out my hand to steal a piece. But before my fingers can touch it, Nessa snatches the delightful bite I'm aiming for and lays it on Lovejoy's tongue.
"Hmm . . . this tastes amazing. Great choice, Precious. Great choice."
The beam painted on Lovejoy's face somehow makes me wish I were him, and there's an urgent desire to bolt out of this place, steal a motorcycle, and smash myself into an invisible wall—which is number two in my How I Want to Die list.
I click my tongue in disapproval. Torturing me with one of my favorite foods. I didn't think you could be this cruel, Miss Mochi.
In my desperate effort to retaliate, I grab a mozzarella stick and pull it apart to reveal the gooey cheese before dipping it into the tomato sauce. As I chomp on the crispy snack, I expect to see a glimpse of regret in Nessa's eyes. Yet she doesn't even spare me a single glance.
My best friend's heart has turned as cold as that dead, smoked fish she's feeding to her date. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Fine. I guess I deserve this.
I stuff several mozzarella sticks into my mouth and munch them. I can't believe I spent $3,193.99—plus taxes—to be tortured like this. I can't even eat my—
"Precious, one of the table's free." Lovejoy looks over at one of the pool tables on my right before he asks Nessa, "Wanna play?"
"Oh, no, no, Stud Muffin," Nessa replies with a shake of her head.
Stud Muffin. A wave of nausea rolls up my stomach every time I hear her call him by that pet name, and I gobble up another handful of mozzarella sticks.
"I suck at pool."
I jerk back in my seat at Nessa's comment, my face twisting in confusion. Nessa may not be a former professional pool player like me, but she's far from being awful at it.
"Let me teach you, then. It's not that hard." Lovejoy stands up and offers Nessa a hand. "Come on."
"Okay!" Tossing the last of the smoked salmon bites into her mouth, Nessa jumps to her feet and grabs Lovejoy's hand. A questionable grin breaks on her face as her gaze flicks to me. A hint of malice flashes in her eyes—the kind that rings an alarm bell in my head.
Great. What is she planning now? Fuck him in front of me?
Lovejoy turns to face Emilia and me, a ghost of a cunning smirk lurking beneath his placid expression. "Feel free to join us."
