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Tidal Page 58
Author: Emily Snow

As soon as my scene was declared a success by Dickson, he took me aside. “Is everything okay, Willow?” he asked. I was getting tired of hearing that everywhere I turned but I swallowed hard and nodded politely.

I placed my hand on his forearm and gave him a meaningful look. “I’m great.”

“And Cooper is—”

My producer was veering towards the awkward again, and I groaned aloud, holding my hands out in front of me to stop this conversation before it completely took that turn. “I’m great.”

Dickson cast a sideways glance at Jessica who was talking to one of the supporting actresses—they apparently knew each other from a movie they’d done together two years ago. Jessica lifted her head, flipping her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder and gave us a long, examining stare.

“I’m half tempted to schedule a scene for you tomorrow so that—” Dickson started but then he caught himself. He clenched his hands out in front of him, bobbing his head slowly as he said, “Just be careful, Willow.”

Suppressing a sound of exasperation, I nodded and swore to him that I would. As I walked over to join Jessica, and her smile widened, I felt Dickson’s eyes following me.

Miller drove us back to my rental house, and Jessica quickly undid her seatbelt, placing her chin on the back of my seat. “We’re going out to night, yes?” I jabbed my tongue into the inside of my cheek and gripped the door handle.

“Miller can take us to dinner?” I asked her at last, and she sighed.

“Whatever.”

Once we got to my rental, I told Miller I’d text him as soon as we were ready. He nodded, replying, “I’m going to hit the gym for a little but I’ll be waiting.”

Then I took Jessica inside, and as she threw herself down on the suede couch, she gave me a smile that nearly showed all of her straight white teeth. “This place is cute.” I’d known Jessica long enough to know that cute meant she utterly loathed whatever she was talking about. I picked up handfuls of clothing off the arm of the recliner and gritted my teeth together.

She’ll be gone in two days, I reminded myself.

A moment later I heard the sound of something hitting the table, and every muscle in my body tightened. I turned slowly, staring in horror at the baggie sitting on top of the stack of magazines on the edge of the table. “What’s that?” I asked, feeling my heart skip a beat. Of course I already knew exactly what that was. I could probably even guess how much the bag of Roxies had cost her.

She lifted the corners of her lips. “Happy belated birthday, Willow. I celebrated without you, but hey, it’s never too late to—”

I jabbed my finger at the bag and shook my head. “Get rid of them,” I growled. Her smile faded and her dark blue eyes narrowed into tight slits.

“Don’t be stupid.”

I redirected my finger to the door, and said in a tight voice, “Jess, I’m not above telling you to get the f**k out. Throw them away, flush them, I don’t give a shit—just don’t give them to me.”

She gave me a long, hard look and then swooped up the bag of Roxies, dumping it back into her Vuitton bag. Sitting upright, she flexed her hands on either side of her body. “Alright, Willow.” She slid her tongue from side to side between her teeth. “What now then?”

“Dinner,” I reminded her.

“Fun,” she said, emphasizing the word.

Her movements were jerky when I excused myself to take a shower and I stood under the hot water, gripping the shower wall for support. I hated myself for reacting to what Jessica had brought—for wanting it for a split second—just about as much as I hated her for bringing it to me in the first place.

After my shower, I sat on the edge of my bed, listening to the sound of the Andy Samberg movie Cooper and I had watched the week before drift from the living room and Jessica’s laughter.

“I can do this,” I whispered. I picked my phone up from the nightstand to check the time to find a text message from Cooper.

6:18 p.m.: Still going out for dinner with Pastie tonight?

I sighed, lifting up off the bed to go in search of clothes as I messaged him back. Yes. Do you want me to have Miller drop me off afterward?

He texted me back as I sifted through underwear.

6:29 p.m.: You can have him drop you off now if you’d like. Or I can just come get you. Or . . .

I bit my bottom lip, feeling the stress slowly lift off my shoulders. You do know that I hate ellipses because of the implication behind them, right?

I shimmied on my panties and bra and set about finding something to wear. I sprung for a pair of skinny jeans and a blue and red flannel top with a white tank top beneath. My phone rang as I buttoned my jeans. Sliding my feet into a pair of sneakers, I flopped over to the bed to answer Cooper’s call.

Except it wasn’t Cooper, it was my parents. I gripped the phone tightly, starring at the neon writing rotating around the screen as the phone continued to play the ringtone I’d assigned to them. They hadn’t called me since the fallout with Mom a week after my birthday and I honestly wasn’t ready to talk. When the phone stopped ringing, I threw it down on the bed and finished getting dressed. I combed my long, dark hair into a high ponytail and rubbed on lip gloss before sliding my phone and credit card into my back pocket.

Jessica wrinkled the tip of her nose when she saw me. “You look—” She paused, cocking her head to one side and raking her gaze up my body, from head to toe. I tensed up under her scrutiny as I waited for her to say something. Then she gave me a mock disgusted glare. “Ugh, I need to start surfing. You look hot.”

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Emily Snow's Novels
» Consumed (Devoured #2)
» Absorbed (Devoured #1.5)
» Devoured (Devoured #1)
» All Over You (Devoured 0.5)
» Savor You (Savor Us #1)
» Tidal