PENELOPE
It was just past 10 a.m., and the bakery had finally settled from the early morning rush. Jess and I were perched on the counter, legs swinging lazily, iced lattes in hand, talking about what really went on during our weekend together.
“My head is still ringing from the bass,” Jess groaned, dramatically leaning back on her elbows.
I snorted. “You mean the bass or the man who kept smacking his abs in your face?”
“Okay, in my defense, he was ripped. And you’re one to talk. The way you screamed when they lifted you onto that chair—”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “Oh my God, I didn’t scream.”
“You shrieked. I have video evidence, you've gotta bribe me so I don't show it to Christian.”
“You wish,” I shoved her playfully with my shoulder, both of us dissolving into laughter. My ch
