Now we’re riding in the back of a limo provided for Princess Melanie by none other than her very own Mr. King. The driver is apparently her boyfriend’s driver. I tell you, being with her lately is giving me a fucking complex. Especially after your ex just looked at you the way Mackenna looked at me. Like he wants to murder me, slowly, and then chop off my body parts and hide them in a box. So the legend goes—Pandora in a box, not Pandora’s box.

Melanie raps manicured nails against a crystal glass she’s lifted from the minibar inside the car. The letters on the nails spell G-R-E-Y with a heart on her thumb.

Ridiculous.

Both my friends are in committed relationships with men who’ve proven themselves true by doing the unthinkable—leaving their lives for them. I loathed Melanie’s playboy because I thought he wasn’t right for her, but it turned out he was exactly what she’d dreamed of and more. Hot, protective, dangerous, and alpha to the max, he’d do anything for Melanie. And Brooke? Brooke is already married to her guy—no, he’s not just a guy, he’s like a beast. A tall, lean, muscled, dark-haired, blue-eyed, sexy beast—who looks at her like he lives for her.

I don’t tell Melanie how it hurts when Greyson shows up at the office to steal her away for the day, or how it hurts to see Brooke and her husband instinctively nuzzle each other when they talk. Maybe it’s because I feel uncomfortable letting anyone see that I notice that shit. But I do. I notice it like I’d notice that I’m missing a limb, or like I’d notice slamming into a tree branch and having it stick out of my torso.

Yeah, I notice how Greyson looks at Melanie, and how Remy looks at Brooke. Only a few months ago Brooke and her husband were in town with their baby, and I saw the way he smiled at her across the room. How they each sought out the space in the room where the other was. How, when they were close, he put his hand on her hip, a huge hand, and ducked his head to her, so near that his lips moved against her ear, his lips curled, his eyes twinkling down at her. I noticed Brooke’s smile, almost shy, and the way she turned her body to his and cupped his jaw. You could feel the love in the air, and I almost felt like I was intruding on something intimate and special. Seeing them, I scowled down at my lap, because I couldn’t take it.

And Melanie? She was probably wishing on some stupid star, hoping that one day that would be her. And now, guess what? It is her. Her fucking boyfriend dotes on her. She’s found genuine love. Love that I won’t ever let myself wish for because I will never have that with anyone. I will never duck my head shyly or be the kind of girl who inspires a man to protect her the way my friends’ men protect them. I will never inspire a man to want to change for the better because of me. Because I’m not inspiring. I’m the bitter one nobody likes to hang around with for too long.

All because Mackenna wrecked me.

He fucked my brains out and then he fucked with my heart and what was left of my brains, and I was too young to get over it. Now, after looking into those eyes I absolutely cannot stand, I would rather die than back out on a challenge from him. He doesn’t want to see me? Well then, I’m going to plant myself in front of him so that he has to. I’m going to make his life a living hell, like he did mine. And best of all? I’m getting paid for it. I think I might just be enjoying my first stroke of luck since . . . my birth date.

“Yes, Trillion, it went amazing!” Melanie cries excitedly into the phone, checking her nails to make sure they’re perfect. She calls her boyfriend Trillion sometimes, saying it’s because it was the highest number she could think of. I don’t get it, but she told me not to worry, because he does.

Whatever. Melanie’s just . . . Melanie.

Now she’s dropping her voice even more for him. “Yes, I thought of you . . . I need you more. I’ll tell Ulysses to step on it. No, it won’t be a risk if he steps on it. I need you.” She’s blushing like her boyfriend has just whispered something filthy he plans to do to her. She bites her lower lip like a young girl and cups the receiver and whispers something, then laughs and hangs up.

“You look like a simpering virgin, Melanie,” I say bitterly.

Her eyes twinkle, almost as if her guy just made love to her on the phone. “So what? He makes me feel shy when he describes in detail what he’s going to do to me.”

“Dude, you have his name on your fingers and hearts on your thumbs. Men like your man like challenges. Careful, or he’ll think you’re a sure thing and dump you.”

“I am a sure thing, and he’s my sure thing. We love each other, we’re getting married, you dodo.”

Fuck, I’ll be the only singleton of the three. Even our closest guy friend, Kyle, has a girlfriend now.

Fuck me standing and with my boots on. Ugh.

We fall quiet the rest of the way home. Melanie is now texting, maybe with her guy or maybe with Brooke. Melanie always keeps her up to date.

“Will you tell me how you two met?” she demands, looking up from her phone. I’ve been reluctant to talk about Mackenna for ages.

“Long time ago. In high school, before I switched schools and met you.”

“But you don’t think he was worth mentioning before yesterday? He broke your damn heart and he sings about it on the radio!”

I stare out the window, pulling up my walls tight around me.

“What happened?”

“Stupid girl attracted to bad boy, V card handed over, heart broken, end of story. I’m not even worried about him. Currently, I’m worried about what I’ll say to my mother. I’ll probably just say I have work, and I’ll talk to Susan to see if she’ll let me work from afar the next few weeks. I’ll tell Mother the truth once it’s all over.”