ROSIE
Ashton doesn't even seem fazed. If anything, he gives me that calm, casual look, like I'm the one making a scene I shouldn't be.
He lifts a brow. His facial expressions remains cool and unbothered.
"I didn't know I was having fun."
Ouch.
The realization slaps me hard.
I'm his friend. His best friend.
Nothing more. There's no damn title attached.
And I have no right, like zero right to feel this jealous. To expect commitment from him.
He gets to his feet, and the girl rises with him, flipping her hair like she's auditioning for a shampoo ad. She struts toward me, eyes trailing over my outfit with that are-you-lost look, then jabs a finger at my shoulder.
"And who's this?" she says, smirking as she turns to Ashton.
"Your cleaner? Or just some charity case you dragged along
