Page 84 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

I continue walking. Bianca continues following me. Fat, fluffy white clouds drift through the sky, and the first crisp breeze of fall blows over my arms. In the distance, a cow moos.

First, I couldn’t enjoy the scenery because I was trying to run, of all things. And now, I can’t appreciate it because I’m being followed by my bitch ex-best friend. Of all things.

And, stupidly, there’s a part of me that wants to turn around and walk right up to her car. To yell and scream at her. To fight it out, get it over with like we have with our other disagreements.

But this isn’t a disagreement. This is, without a doubt, the worst thing someone has ever done to me. And that’s saying something, considering my childhood of asshole foster homes and school administrators who didn’t give a fuck about me.

Suddenly, the convertible whips up and around me on the road, spraying me with rocks and dust. Bianca yanks it to the side so it covers the road at a diagonal, blocking my path. I stare at her for a moment, shocked at this—I didn’t even know she could drive—then I turn on my heel and start walking in the other direction.

Sooner or later, she’ll give up.

“It’s not just about you!” she yells, and when I turn to look at her again, she’s holding the wheel like it’s an anchor, her sunglasses in her hand.

Even from this distance, I can make out the fact that she’s been crying. I can make out the glimmer of wetness on her cheeks, and the faint, shiny shadow of a bruise on her left cheek.

Something catches in my throat. Is that ablack eye?

Where would she have gotten a black eye? She’s the least clumsy person I know. She takes every step as if she were raised practicing in a ballroom with textbooks balanced on her head. Bianca would neveraccidentallygive herself a bruise like that.

Was it Alex?

Stupidly, the thought makes me hot with rage. He cheated, and she betrayed me, and yet here I am, lighting up with fury at the idea of anyone laying a hand on her.

“Who is it about, then?” I call back, popping a hand on my hip, feeling like a couple of kids in the schoolyard, having a shouting match.

“Your…guys,” she says, pinching her lips together, a classic Bianca-ism that shows she very much does not like the arrangement I have going on.

My anger over her black eye turns to rage over her bringing them into this. I stalk forward until the passenger side door is under my hands, and I can lean in, scowl at her. When I do, a flicker of fear passes over her face, and I thinkgood.

Good. Iwanther to be afraid of me.

I think about what she said in her room.Like, you don’t have to act out, just because things didn’t go your way.

Bianca knows what kind of trouble I got into when I was a kid. She knows that there were times, frustrated and alone, that I got into fights with other girls, even boys, in my class. That I couldn’t stand to be picked on, and I’d come back swinging.

Maybe Bianca needs someone to scare her. Someone to pull her hair, push her down, ruin her perfect, fancy clothes. For the first time since meeting her, I see her for who she is—not a slightly judgmental rich girl, but abully.

What she needs is for someone to stand up to her. To show her that she can’t just do whatever she wants without consequences. That money and status don’t mean anything. A punch hurts just as bad, no matter which fist throws it.

“Is that a threat?” I growl, staring her down.

Bianca clutches her sunglasses like they might save her from me. Trying to still her quivering chin, she looks off into the distance and says, quietly, “No. It’s me trying to make up for being a terrible friend to you, Serena.”

Chapter 46

Serena

My pistachio milkshake sweats nervously in my hand.

Bianca sits next to me, staring down at her chocolate milkshake like it might stage-whisper some lines for her. Part of me can’t believe I agreed to this—that I got into the car with her in the first place. Don’t they always tell you not to go to a second location?

I texted the guys to let them know I was getting milkshakes with a friend. Of course, they all reacted differently.

Ryan:have fun

Ryan:ooh, bring me back a hot fudge sundae

Graham:thumbs up