“That bitch,” Rhiannon commented, and took a sip of her juice.
“You’re saying that sarcastically, but let me assure you, this guy is the worst.” Jia sneered. “He’s implying my skin hasn’t always been flawless. How dare he?” She stroked her smooth cheek. “Look at this. Like a baby’s bottom.”
“Your face is like a baby’s bottom?”
Jia growled at Rhiannon. Their relationship had quickly settled into a sisterly squabbling. “You know what I mean. Trust me, I’m reading this exactly right. I have good instincts about this. I couldn’t sleep a wink, I’m exhausted.”
“You can’t tell. Ah, to be dewy and twenty-five again.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” Jia answered pertly.
“You’d probably sleep more if you didn’t stay up all night texting a guy.”
Jia’s flush confirmed Rhiannon’s guess.
Rhiannon poured a generous serving of syrup on her waffles. “Where in the world is your mysterious boyfriend now, anyway?”
Katrina gently kicked her best friend under the table. Jia had moved cross-country to expand her empire and get the kind of opportunities that were only accessible in close proximity to L.A. When Rhiannon had proposed adding her as a roommate, she’d told Katrina that Jia’s family had been worried about her moving here and living alone.
About ten minutes after meeting her, Katrina had understood Jia’s family’s hesitance. The girl was social-media-savvy and clearly brilliant, but she had the kind of sheltered, wide-eyed eagerness and innocence that came from not having been exposed to the worst of mankind yet.
Katrina wasn’t that much older, and not nearly as cynical as Rhiannon, but she felt about eighty years removed from Jia when it came to street smarts.
Which was why she wasn’t eager to crush Jia’s spirit. Especially when it came to this mystery guy Jia had been texting for the past month. A guy Jia hadn’t met or seen yet.
“He’s in Hong Kong this week,” Jia said blithely, unaware of or uncaring about Rhiannon’s sardonic tone. “He’s finishing up his business in Asia and then he should be in the U.S. in a few weeks.”
Rhiannon nodded. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. And what is his business, again? Or his name, for that matter? Asking for science.”
This time, Jia’s flattened lips told Katrina she’d picked up on Rhiannon’s disbelief. “Stop playing big sister, Rhi. I’ve got enough of those.”
Rhiannon pointed her fork at Jia. “None of your biological big sisters know about this guy. I do. I’m looking out for you. It’s weird you guys haven’t even video-chatted yet.”
“It’s not weird. He’d rather we meet in person first.”
Rhiannon scoffed. “Have you ever heard of this thing called catfishing?”
Jia’s face turned red and Katrina cleared her throat, eager to ease tensions. She hated arguments. “How about I tell you guys about the guy I met yesterday?”
A pair of light brown and dark brown eyes turned immediately to her. “Where did you meet a guy?” Jia asked.
“At French Coast. We sat at a table together. I talked to him and we flirted a little and then he asked me out.”
“What?” Rhiannon’s scowl deepened. “What’s his name? When are you going out? What does he look like?”
Katrina shook her head, having expected nothing less than this third degree. Rhiannon might be protective of Jia, but she was overprotective of Katrina. She would happily internet-stalk any guy in Katrina’s vicinity. Possibly even real-life-stalk them. The amount of data Rhiannon had at her fingertips was a little frightening. “His name was Ross, and he was very cute. He likes to bicycle, and his mother has an adorable puppy. But we’re not going out. I didn’t feel a spark.”
Rhiannon harrumphed. “Okay. I won’t run a background check on him then.”
“Now I’m going to tell you to stop playing big sister.” Only she wouldn’t, because deep down, Katrina adored Rhiannon for caring so much about her. Having a sister had always been her dream.
“You can’t go out with some stranger you meet in a café. Or on the internet,” Rhiannon tacked on, giving Jia a meaningful look.
Katrina cut into her waffle. “You made a fortune for both of us by building an app where people literally go out with strangers. Strangers on the internet. You met Samson on that app.”
Rhiannon swallowed the bite in her mouth before answering. “That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“It . . . just is.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “Okay then.”
“Wait a minute.” Jia’s silverware clattered onto her plate. “Is French Coast the place with that blue-and-white wall? And the red chairs?” The youngest roommate’s perfectly arched eyebrows drew together in a frown.
“Yeah, it is. Why?”
Jia bit her lip and glanced at Rhiannon. “Uh. No reason.”
“Pretty sure there’s a reason.”
“Um . . .”
Her hesitation worried Katrina. “What? You can say it.”
Jia reached for her phone. “There was something I saw yesterday on Twitter, but I didn’t have much time to look at it, because I was—well, that’s not important.” Her fingers tapped on the screen.
Rhiannon cocked her head. “Spit it out, Jia.”
Dread balled up in Katrina’s stomach when Jia’s face turned pale. She placed the phone faceup on the table so they could all see.
It was her.
Katrina’s face wasn’t visible, hidden by both her baseball cap and the way the camera was angled, thank God. But Katrina could still make out the curve of her round cheek and the light brown strands of her hair.
“What is this?” she whispered. “Paparazzi? Was he someone famous?” Ross’s face was more distinguishable than hers in the shot.
“Actually . . . you’re both famous now.” Jia exited out of the picture she’d clicked on, and the tweet it had come from was revealed.
The thread of tweets, rather.
Katrina was barely aware of Rhiannon scooting closer to her. She read through the thread with growing disbelief, each tweet more ridiculous than the next.
This guy just sat down at this girl’s table and they make such a cute couple.
OMG! Wouldn’t it be adorable if he’s her soul mate???
I don’t see any wedding rings.
They touched legs!
Aw, they’re talking about each other’s families.
The fuck.
She looked at the avatar of the tweeter. It was the smiling blond woman from the table next to theirs, the one she’d thought was in the middle of writing something juicy.
You. You were the something juicy.
“You talked to him about your parents?”
Katrina shook her head at Rhiannon’s skeptical question. The surprise was valid. She didn’t talk about her parents with anyone, save Rhiannon and her therapist. Jas knew about some pieces of her family history. That was it. “We were talking about his mom’s dog, and Zeus,” she muttered. She waded through the meticulously detailed play-by-play of her and Ross’s interaction, each innocent action and part of their conversation taking on a rom-com spin.