Jax's role as the "mutual friend" was to help Estella get the guy. Falling in love with her was never part of the plan.
Estella Gillon lives a simple life that consists of band, friends, her father and her never-ending crush on Brice Abrams. Ja...
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I couldn't believe Estella was actually using this bet to make me into some sort of love Guru.
If I knew this was going to happen, I never would have agreed to it, and now, I had to go on a hunt for bubble tea every morning, drive her home, and do whatever her mind told her she desired.
The idea was sickening.
I sighed as Brice and I leaned against Verda, waiting for little Miss Princess to show up.
"Tell me why you invited your friend again?" Brice asked when we had been waiting for more than five minutes.
I shrugged with my arms crossed. "Why not?"
He bobbed his head, not saying more. We met up at the stairwell leading to the basement, and I told him about the change of plans. I only told him "my friend" was joining us, but I didn't specify. He appeared taken aback that I had other friends that weren't him, Oliver or Tyler.
I wasn't sure if I was offended.
To be honest, I didn't know if I had friends other than the boys and Estella.
"The hell," Brice said after another five minutes passed. "Is your friend doing his makeup in the bathroom or something? What's going on?"
"Her," I corrected, and a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head.
"No wonder," he huffed and leaned back on Verda.
Surprisingly, I was less bothered by her tardiness and more concerned about her well-being.
Did she pass out in the bathroom or something?
Like damn.
I craned my neck to get a better glimpse of the school, and right at that moment, I spotted a familiar pair of caramel legs hurrying our way. I didn't have to glance up at the face to know it was Estella.
I couldn't believe I was saying this, but Estella had really nice legs. They always appeared smooth, and they had a nice shape. A little longer, and they would have been perfect.
She ran over to us, fast enough to move quickly but slow enough to not break a sweat.
"I'm so sorry," she said, resisting the urge to pant as she stopped before me and Brice.
Her gaze was stuck on Brice.
I furrowed my brows as something seemed different about her appearance. Her hair looked more kept-together. Her face more vibrant and her clothes more orderly.
Is that why she was late?
She was getting dolled-up for Brice?
I resisted the urge to frown. "Brice," I started, "this is—"
