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vivianna
Esme Yoon is throwing a slumber party.
Her slumber parties are always plastered all over her social media, and she throws multiple ones every year for her birthday or for Valentine’s Day or for any other themed occasion. Today, she’s decided to throw one on behalf of Lovebound, where all of us Lovebound girls are invited.
So, by 10 PM the following night of her photoshoot, all of us women are crammed into her and Brody’s room. She kicked Brody out at some point earlier today, pushing away the bed and sofa so there’s plenty of room for everyone to circle up.
She’s got cabernet and Fruitopia filling a pink cooler in the corner of the room that she bought earlier today when she was out. Everyone’s all decked out in PJs — satin or fluff, and we’ve all managed to find a spot on a mattress Esme requested from producers.
Imogen’s sitting at Esme’s left, where Everleigh sits on her right. I examine Imogen, ringlets pulled back, lips pursed in her shorts and tee. She’s sitting a good couple of inches away from Esme, and I suddenly wonder if it’s guilt that fills the space between them. Did she feel guilt when Griffin found out about her secret boyfriend?
I don’t know.
My thoughts are cut short by Esme checking in with everyone. How are things going? How are the guys? How are we feeling about the new living situations?
Forget being an influencer, Esme could be a reporter. There’s a way she leans forward all curious as she asks these questions, a way she smiles and nods that encourages the interviewee to keep talking. Like everything is girl talk and can’t be possibly weaponized against us later. She’s got a natural charm. As much as Esme’s beginning to grow on me, I’m not letting my guard down, not fully.
Different people pipe up to answer different questions like this is some sort of seminar. Noticing my silence, Esme speaks up, holding eye contact.
“So...” Esme grins, adjusting her hair-rollers. “What about you and Griff? How’re you guys finding this transition?” she asks.
Before I can reply, Imogen pipes up. “You guys kissed yet?”
There’s silence. Imogen’s expression is cloying, and it has my eye twitching. Her eyes are too doe-like, as though she knows. There’s a sick feeling in my stomach. Surely, she doesn’t know. Zander doesn’t seem to know. Griffin and I have done a great job at keeping up appearances. But there have been no kisses, not even on the cheek. Hell, I’ve seen Everleigh and Wyatt—who don’t even swear—exchange casual kisses.
I’ve drawn out the silence for too long, and now all the girls are looking at me, eyebrows raised.
I clear my throat. “We’re private.”
Imogen opens her mouth to say something else but Esme cuts her off.
“I respect it. Not everything’s about physical attraction,” Esme says, giving me a little nod. There’s a certain coldness in her tone, and Imogen purses her lips. Esme isn’t stupid. She could suspect something going on, and maybe that’s why she’s shutting down Imogen.
The conversation resumes with more laughter and more light secrets and more whispers. At some point, the girls break to play a card game, and I take the opportunity to head down to the kitchen for hot chocolate.
The guys are out for the night too, so the kitchen is empty as I mix up some hot chocolate for myself. Once I’ve put the mug in the microwave, I whip around and nearly have a heart attack when I come face-to-face with one Esme Yoon.
She’s in her satin PJs, her arms folded over her chest.
“Shit, Esme.” I jump back, hand rising to my chest. Did she follow me?
“Sorry,” she says, but doesn’t seem to mean it. “Do you suspect anything going on between Brody and Imogen?” Did I mention Esme Yoon does not beat around the bush?
I swallow. “Why?”
Esme laughs. “First night we were here, the three of us were sitting at the table and Brody and Imogen were talking to each other like I wasn’t even there.” So, they’d been interacting like that long before Esme even dipped that night. This is even worse than I thought.
“When I was there, Brody had maybe two sips during the conversation, and like one beer later that night. Then, he claims he has a hangover. For the entire day? Please.”
Esme’s practically talking to herself now, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“I talked to Aiden today and he said that him and Brody played ping pong together before the surfing trip.” She’s shaking, her hand gripping her drink. “Guess what? Aiden admits that Brody didn’t seem hungover at the time.”
Esme plows on. “So, unless he decided to have, what, five beers after ping pong—he wouldn’t have had a full-day hangover.”
“So, you think he’s lying,” I finally say.
“I know he’s lying,” Esme replies. “And Imogen was conveniently gone all day, too, while the rest of us were surfing. You really think that’s a coincidence?”
With filming done for today, Esme isn’t holding back any punches. Still, I want her to quiet down. If anyone comes down, they’re going to hear all her business.
Esme looks me in the eyes. She’s intimidating, despite being 5’5’’. “So, Viv. Please. Tell me I’m not crazy. I was gone last night. I don’t know what I don’t know. It’ll help if someone else feels the same way or saw anything.” She says, eyes showing a sliver of desperation.
She deserves to know.
Finally, I say, “you’re not crazy.”
Esme swears. “I knew it.”
“When you were gone, I saw Imogen going into Brody’s room.”
Esme curses again, shaking her rolled-up hair. A curler falls out. I don’t think she notices.
“I wish you told me earlier.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to tell someone. Especially since that was all I had.”
“All you had?” Esme echoes. “That’s hella incriminating.” She paces the kitchen. My hot chocolate’s probably cold by now.
Esme doesn’t fall apart. Her eyes water, but she blinks any tears—likely more of embarrassment than anything— away and pulls herself back together.
“What’re you gonna do?”
“Well, I came here to win,” Esme replies, meeting my eyes. “But I’m not going to give Brody the satisfaction of thinking I’m not onto him. I’m exposing him.” She rubs her temples. “After that, I’m gonna have to figure something out. I’m not going home because he’s an asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Esme shakes her head. “You are not the person who has to apologize here.”
I give Esme a small smile. “Right.”
“Well,” she says, clapping her hands together. “We have a slumber party to get back to.”
As I follow Esme back up the stairs, she adds, “Thank God I don’t have to sleep in the same room as him tonight.”
“You still have to worry about Imogen,” I point out.
Esme groans, turning toward me.
“Girl, I think I’m gonna need a drink. Or seven.”