"Get me out! Get me out!" Billie screeched, flailing helpless in the freezing water, because first, how dare they, and second, how dare they, and third, no one was helping her, the trainer just standing there smirking along with those losers Liv and Aliyah, and Peyton still filming on her phone like the useless supposed best friend she far too often was.
She was left to struggle out of the ice bath on her own, humiliated, water dripping down her body, shoes squelching and her new leggings probably ruined, and someone was going to pay for this. "Petyon," she whined plaintively, waving her hands in front of her, feeling tears prickle hot in her eyes.
"Oh," Peyton said, finally putting her phone away. "Yeah." She grabbed Billie's arm, pulling it across her shoulders, supporting her, leading her out of the room and away from her would-be tormentors. Would-be and wannabe because when it came to showing people their place, Liv and Aliyah were surely nothing but mere imitators.
"We're not done with you," Billie screamed behind her, no longer able to stop herself from letting out a piteous sob as the tears began to flow.
"Not done!" Peyton echoed, and god, Billie thought, couldn't she say something original for once? Did Billie always have to be the mastermind of this duo, the genius behind the scenes? It was exhausting, the pressure almost too much.
"You know they're just jealous?" Peyton reassured her, as they headed towards the locker room. "They just can't deal with how much better than them we are."
"Well, obviously," Billie replied. "We're better than everyone." She hiccupped out another sob, courageously raising her chin and trying to gather herself in a way that befitted someone of her status. "But I'll be complaining, don't you worry."
"You should send Hunter another text, tell him what they did."
"Oh, I will." Billie sniffed inelegantly as she began to shiver with the cold. "I think he's on vacation though, he hasn't been answering lately."
The locker room door closed behind them, and they went straight through into the showers, finding the space empty except for one of the newer, interchangeably plain trainees, who was standing under a stream of water, rinsing off her hair.
"Out!" Peyton ordered, and the girl looked over, raising her eyebrows slightly and not moving.
"She said out!" Billie raised the pitch of her voice high enough that it resounded off the tiled walls in a manner that bordered on ear splittingly painful, and the girl shook her head, turning off the shower and picking up her towel, leaving the room.
"Okay," said Peyton, "let's get you out of these wet clothes." Billie raised her arms ready as Peyton began to undress her, peeling off her t-shirt and crop top before standing back with a gasp.
"What?" Billie asked, alarmed.
"Babe," Peyton said, admiringly, "your nips look amazing. They are on point."
Billie stared down, her distress suddenly forgotten. Of course she had perfect breasts, because she was perfect in every way, but yeah, even she could admit they were particularly awesome post-ice bath. Higher and even firmer than normal, and her nipples were like, spectacularly hard, straining forward like small, sexy beacons.
She ran her hands over them, thumbs circling over the taut flesh as she arched her back, thrusting her chest forward. "You like?" she asked, pursing her lips like she was posing for an especially iconic selfie.
"Nice," Petyon agreed, and perhaps, Billie mused, she wasn't the worst best friend a girl could could have. She kicked off her wet shoes and socks, and dragged her soaked leggings and underwear down off her legs, letting them fall on the floor with a splat.
"Okay?" asked Peyton, and Billie shook her head mournfully. It was all so undignified, seriously.
But she turned to Peyton, pouting a little."You know what would help?"
"Anything, hon, you know that."
"You could eat me out?" Billie said hopefully, because Peyton really was kind of talented at that, and it really did always make Billie feel better.
"Of course!" Peyton smiled. "Against the wall, yeah?"
Billie nodded happily, leaning back against the tiles, and Peyton kneeled in front of her, warm hands running up and down the cool skin of Billie's thighs, bending up one long, smoothly tanned leg and draping it over her shoulder.
"You're a good friend, babe," Billie said.
Peyton gazed up at her adoringly. "Aw, sweetie, you're the best."
She leaned in closer, and Billie sighed as Peyton's tongue slid over her. "Yeah," she said, dreamily, "I know."