Right then, Rachael and Tiffani appear at the door behind him, slightly out of breath, as though they’ve climbed up all twelve flights of stairs. My grip on the door tightens as Tiffani smiles at me, eyes wide.
“What are you guys doing here?” Tyler calls from the kitchen, and when I glance over my shoulder I see he’s abandoned his coffee on the worktop and is making his way over. He’s stuffed his hands into his pockets, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing the way they’re balled into fists.
“We wanted to see your apartment!” Rachael tells him, voice cheerful. However, it quickly falters and she shrugs a little sheepishly. “And also because last night sucked. We wanna talk to you.”
Tyler glances between Rachael and Tiffani for a long moment. His eyes rest on Tiffani longer than they do on Rachael, and I can quite literally see the way he’s fighting the urge to refuse them entry. He eventually takes a step back from the door. “Fine, come on in,” he mutters.
Rachael leads the way into the center of the apartment, Tiffani close behind her. As Tyler shrugs at me, I frown back and turn to reach for Dean’s shirt, pulling him over the threshold and kicking the door shut behind us all. Both Snake and Emily get to their feet, awkwardly studying our fellow West Coast guests. Snake’s gaze never leaves Rachael, and Emily’s never leaves Tiffani.
“Alright,” Tyler says. He briefly runs over the introductions, stating everyone’s names and summarising everyone as briefly as possible. Snake’s the roommate from Boston. Emily’s the Brit he toured with. Rachael’s a friend. Tiffani’s just Tiffani. Dean is nothing more than the guy I’m dating. Tyler doesn’t mention that once upon a time they were best friends. There’s no point. That friendship is going to end within the next four days.
Snake makes a beeline across the room for Rachael once the awkward greetings are over with, and I try to shoot him a warning glance, but either he doesn’t catch it or he chooses to blatantly ignore it. His gray eyes are set on her, and as he holds out his hand he reintroduces himself. This time, surprisingly, as Stephen.
Rolling my eyes, I glance over to Tiffani. She’s studying Emily intensely from a few feet away and I watch anxiously as Emily closes the gap between them, her expression nonchalant.
“So you’re Tiffani?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tiffani narrows her eyes, taken aback by the tone of Emily’s voice.
If only Emily lived in Santa Monica, she’d know not to mess with Tiffani Parkinson. But unfortunately she doesn’t, so she’s not aware of this basic rule of survival. She keeps on going. “Oh, nothing,” she says with a curt shrug. “I’ve just heard a lot about you, that’s all.”
“Really?” Tiffani’s face lights up at the thought of it, like she thrives on the idea of her name being tossed around in everyone else’s conversations. Most of the time, the words that follow after her name are not flattering.
Emily smiles, but it’s not genuine. For the first time, she seems like she’s got her guard up. She’s usually more vulnerable, more soft-spoken and quiet. Not today. “Sure have. Don’t worry, though, I’m certain everything I’ve heard is entirely accurate.”
I don’t get to hear what kind of bullshit Tiffani musters up next, because my attention is drawn to Tyler as he steps closer to Dean and me. He’s smiling. Sincere? I don’t think so.
“So, Dean, how about I give you the grand tour?” he suggests.
Dean shakes his head at the offer as he says, “I think we’re just gonna head out. I don’t want to waste anymore time.”
“Nah, man, c’mon, let me show you around.” Tyler throws his arm around him, pulling him away from me as he tightens his grip on his shoulder. I don’t think Dean would be able to get away from him even if he tried. “Come check out the view first. We’re facing Third Avenue.” He leads Dean across the room and gently pushes him in front of the windows, holding him there. As Dean looks out to the street below, Tyler throws me a cunning smile, and I can only roll my eyes in return.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Tiffani heading over to join them. She barges her body in between theirs, throwing an arm over their shoulders. Tyler promptly shrugs her off. “So what are we looking at?” she asks.
On the opposite side of the living room, Snake’s still talking to Rachael. She’s twirling strands of her hair around her fingertips, her lips parted slightly as she listens to whatever the hell it is that Snake talks to girls about.