Isabel squeezed my hand. “Of course she does. Allie is awesome like that.” She released me so she could raise her margarita, tipping it toward me in celebration of my supposed awesomeness. “You’ve got this, babe. You’re the total package: smart, sweet, and gorgeous. No wonder Gavin is a jealous little bitch.”
“Jealous?” Davis’ brows rose to his light blond hair, his sea green eyes going wide. His chest puffed out with indignation, making his lithe dancer’s body appear bulkier than usual. “More like horny. He totally wishes he could get in your pants, honey.”
“Davis!” Charlie squawked. “Gavin is terrible. He’s not getting anywhere near Allie’s pants.”
“I didn’t say he was.” Davis waved his margarita, a little bit of tequila-tinged liquid spilling over the side of the glass with his vehement gesture. “Just that he wants to. Remember how he got that mean girl to send you the note in high school?” he asked me.
As though I could forget.
When I was thirteen, Gavin had gotten a popular girl to pass me a note from him, saying that he liked me. Despite his previous cruelties, I’d been desperate for social validation, and my heart had leapt.
A low groan left my chest. “Please don’t remind me. He loudly and scathingly rejected me in the cafeteria, making sure the whole school witnessed my humiliation.”
Davis leaned in closer to me, his voice dropping low like he was telling a secret. “Trust me, I was the bullied gay kid in high school. The meanest bullies are always the ones who want to fuck you. They know they can’t without damaging their popularity, so they take out their sexual frustration on you. Little bitches.”
“Little dick energy,” Isabel amended with a sage nod.
I shook my head. “You guys didn’t know me in high school. I was a total mess.” A wry smile tugged at my lips, and I finally released most of the tension that knotted my stomach. My friends were amazing, and I’d so much rather bask in their camaraderie than spend my evening on edge, looking for signs of Max in every shadow.
“You would’ve called me a fashion disaster,” I told Isabel. My bestie was so cool that sometimes I was in total awe that we were even friends. With her lustrous black hair, dark eyes, and bronze complexion, Isabel was nothing short of a goddess. She had over a hundred thousand followers on social media for a reason. Star power didn’t even begin to cover how brightly she sparkled. There was no doubt in my mind that her recent leading role in an off-Broadway play would start her path to A-list celebrity status.
Charlie slung an arm over my shoulder. “That’s why you have me.” She lifted a warm tortilla chip and waved it like an imaginary magic wand. “I’m your fashion fairy godmother.”
I laughed for the first time in what felt like days, shedding more of the terrible, lingering fear that’d burdened me. “And I’m eternally grateful.”
Charlie had been in my English Literature class during my freshman year, and I’d helped tutor her when she struggled with the material. She was a curvy blonde bombshell and a Fashion major, and at first, I’d been intimidated by her chic style. But she’d taken me under her wing and shown me the ways of Ted Baker and Bobbi Brown. Now, I was nearly as polished as she was, thanks to the fact that she took being my personal stylist seriously. I’d be sartorially lost without her.
“You can’t help it that your dad’s clueless when it comes to girly stuff,” Isabel interjected in her signature protective tone. The oldest of five siblings, she came from a large, tight-knit Puerto Rican family, and she took her role as big sister seriously. “He didn’t know how to help you style yourself when you were a teenager. That’s why you have us now.”
I released a grateful sigh. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Sometimes, it still seemed surreal that these wonderful people actually liked me and wanted to spend time with me. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve their love and loyalty, but we’d become as close as family over the last three years.
“You would be just fine without us, because you’re awesome,” Davis reminded me. Everyone seemed to be on the cheer-up-Allie train this evening, and after the awful things I’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t feel like protesting their overly lavish praise.
Instead, I took a deep gulp of my margarita and rubbed my locket, my cheeks flushing at the intense compliments they were piling on. “Thanks,” I murmured, still not used to accepting so much enthusiastic kindness, even though years had passed since my nightmarish high school experiences. “But I really wouldn’t be fine without you. I love you guys so much.”
“We love you too, babe,” Isabel promised as Davis and Charlie echoed their agreement. She glanced around and made eye contact with our server, who hastened toward our table, his eyes wide on Isabel. I wasn’t sure if his awestruck glow was due to her stunning, natural beauty or if he was a social media fan. As soon as he reached us, Isabel ordered another round of margaritas, and he rushed off to the bar.
“We need more tequila,” she announced, her ochre gaze fixing on me. “You deserve a night to unwind. You work too hard, and you’ve had a hell of a week.”
“Maybe if we get enough drinks in you, we can convince you to get Gavin fired. You’re seriously not thinking clearly on this one,” Davis said decisively. “If I had the chance to crush one of my bullies’ dreams, I’d totally do it.”
“That’s because you’re a badass,” Isabel approved. “Allie, you should take notes.”
I tugged on a lock of my hair and shifted in my seat, slightly uncomfortable despite their loving support. “You guys, I can’t get him fired. His dad is one of my father’s biggest donors.”
“You think Gavin’s dad would withdraw his support if you made sure his son gets what he deserves?” Charlie’s delicately arched brows drew together in outrage, her electric blue eyes sparking. “That’s bullshit.”
I shrugged. “That’s politics.”
“Well, it’s still bullshit,” Davis asserted. “But your dad needs to be mayor, so I guess that means the douchebag gets a pass.” His mouth took on a glum twist.
Davis practically hero-worshipped my dad because of his progressive policies. We’d first met at a rally for the Young Democrats at our university, and we’d clicked immediately; we were passionate about the same political initiatives. Davis had totally freaked when he found out I was Ron Fitzgerald’s daughter. It was a minor miracle that he’d gotten past being starstruck and started being frank with me—a real friend.
He and Isabel were already close, both self-professed theater nerds from the same high school. So he’d introduced us, and I’d introduced them to Charlie, and here we were: an eclectic little family.
The next round of margaritas arrived, along with complimentary tableside guacamole. Dutifully, Isabel gave the server a megawatt smile and snapped some pictures with her phone. He gushed that he loved her posts and was one of her thousands of followers. She was as gracious and humble as ever; Isabel never took her budding success for granted.
Once he left, she turned her camera on us. “I need some candids,” she announced. “Come on, Allie. Look like you’re happy to see us.” She shot me an exaggerated pout. “Don’t let that douchebag ruin your night.”