TMI Read Free

enough to power a city block. She was the definition of hot, no matter what Simon Kane had to say about it. But Bailey never believed the compliments. Simon would know all about Bailey’s insecurities, and Meg’s eyes narrowed. It was a low blow, an arrow aimed straight at Bailey’s Achilles’ heel.
    And it had pierced the target.
    Meg gripped Bailey’s hand and squeezed hard.
    â€œSimon, get lost. Nobody here is impressed.” Bailey retorted, her face pale.
    Simon’s male-model smile full of capped teeth went tight. Vibrating with fury from the soles of his high-priced tennis shoes to the tips of his designer haircut, he nodded slowly. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll leave you and your little dyke girlfriend and go find a real woman.” He stalked around the table and motioned for his pals to follow.
    Meg’s eyes met Bailey’s and she gave her a signal she knew no one else would see, a raised eyebrow that said, Is that the best you got? Bailey acknowledged it with a tiny close-lipped smile and turned back to Simon to fire off one last taunt. “Simon, you should take lessons from Meg. Unlike you, she knows how to keep me coming back for more.”
    Everyone in earshot applauded. Someone’s shout of “Burn!” rippled over the small crowd that watched like it was reality TV.
    â€œYou’ll be back. You’re crazy about me.” Simon shot them both one last glare and finally strode away, his pals on his tail.
    Onlookers went back to their meals, chattering loudly about the floor show, but Meg just grinned proudly at Bailey.
    â€œClose your mouth, Meg,” Bailey snapped.
    â€œYou did it.” Meg giggled. “You really did it. That was…it was— wow —really impressive. But why didn’t you tell me? I knew something was bothering you.”
    Bailey sighed and didn’t answer her for a moment. “You didn’t see Facebook last night?” she finally asked and grabbed Meg’s water bottle to blot the stains from her jeans.
    Meg shook her head. “No, I was painting. What did he say?”
    Bailey put the water bottle back on the tray and pulled out her phone. “Here. Check it out.” She opened her Facebook app and scrolled down, and there it was—Simon’s attempt at being smooth.
    I’ve got two tickets to I-CON. One of them has your name on it, Bailey Grant. You know you want it. Meet me at ten on Saturday. Your welcome.
    Meg snorted at the spelling error and figured Simon didn’t need brains as long as he had money. Meg’s amusement faded when she noticed the time the message had been posted. She’d been drowning French fries in ketchup and feeling sorry for herself. “Oh, my God, Bay, he didn’t even post this on you r Wall.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Or apologize. That’s why I wrote this.” She scrolled down a bit further and showed Meg the screen again.
    You no longer have anything that interests me even a little. Maybe Caitlyn’s interested. Have you tried her? Oh, I forgot. You already have.
    Meg laughed and took Bailey’s phone. She scrolled down, read some of the other comments. “Oh, wow. This got so many Likes.”
    Bailey boiled. “Good. I hope it makes him see what an ass he is.”
    â€œStill, I-CON, Bailey.”
    Bailey lived for I-CON, the annual science-fiction convention held at a college campus on Long Island. It was a huge multiday event that attracted the biggest names in video and role-playing games, animation, comic books, and sci-fi/fantasy fiction. If there was one thing Bailey adored more than hair and makeup, more than going shopping, more than even boys, it was video games—something that made her very popular with the guys. Dangling I-CON tickets in front of her should have made her putty in Simon’s hands. Meg was even more impressed with her friend’s sudden resolve.
    She flopped back into her seat and blew a