* * *
BRENNA: I’ll miss u
* * *
ME: You think I’m bluffing? I’ve cut friends off for not tagging me in Insta posts. I’m ruthless, Bee.
* * *
BRENNA: Don’t believe u
* * *
ME: Arggghhh! Come on, please?? I can’t take it anymore. I must find out 1) his dick size and 2) WTF WERE U THINKING
After another long pause, she responds with: Fine. You win.
Despite my threats, I don’t push Brenna to talk about Hollis during the drive to Hastings. We discuss our classes instead, and I confess that I’m feeling a tad uneasy about my professor.
“I got a pervy vibe from him,” I say as I search for street parking.
“What’s his name?”
“Erik Laurie.”
“Never heard of him.”
There’s no reason why she would, unless she follows the fashion world closely, which I know she doesn’t. I give her a quick rundown of his credentials before describing the chronic winking.
“Maybe he doesn’t understand the concept?” she suggests. “Like, to him, winking could be another form of smiling. So if you give him a compliment, he says Thanks! Wink. And when he greets people, he goes, Nice to meet you! Wink.”
I bite my lip to stop from laughing. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Of course I am. Nobody is that dumb. Winking is flirting. Everyone knows that.”
“So he was flirting with me?”
“Probably?” She rolls her eyes. “And if you try to tell me this is the first time a prof has ever flirted with you, I won’t believe you.”
“No, it’s happened before,” I admit. “But I wasn’t expecting it from this one. He’s so respected in the industry.”
Her loud snort echoes in the car. “Right. Because well-respected men can’t possibly be douchebags. Do we need to have a talk about the current climate in Hollywood?”
“No, let’s not go there.” I find a spot and squeeze my Audi into it.
Five minutes later, we’re seated across from each other in one of the retro, red vinyl booths. Brenna orders a coffee, black. I order a mint tea with lemon. Somehow that sums up this friendship of ours. Appearance wise, I’m all about light colors and nude makeup, while Brenna prefers smoky eyes and black everything. In terms of personality, I’m more carefree, she’s edgier, but we’re both a little nuts. It’s a hoe-mance for the ages.
“Okay, I’ve let you avoid it for long enough,” I announce after the waitress takes our order. “Are you ready?”
She wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Hit me.”
For more than a day, my overflowing curiosity has been contained by a dam named Brenna. Now that she’s broken, there’s no stopping the flood.
“Is he a good kisser? What’s our penis situation like? Did he go down on you? Did you sleep with him? Why did you do this? Is he annoying in bed? Do you regret it? Is he—”
“Omigod!” Brenna exclaims. “I am not answering any of that.”
I get one last question in before the buzzer. “Do you have a boyfriend now?”
“No, but I have an ex-best friend,” she says sweetly.
I ignore that. “Speaking of your boyfriend, he walked in on me in the shower this morning.”
That momentarily distracts her from whatever murder plot she’s devising about me in her head. “What?”
“Hollis walked in on me showering.”
She perks up. “Nice. So I don’t need to punish you for referring to him as my boyfriend. The universe did it for me.”
“It was so embarrassing.” I fill her in on the morning’s theatrics, ending with the grand finale: my towel dropping in front of three boxers-clad college boys.
She purses her lips. “You just described the setup for a porno, so I assume the scene ended with you jacking them all off?”
“No, you brat. It ended with Fitz promising to fix the lock. Which was nice of him,” I force myself to add.
“See? I told you, he’s a good guy.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I saw him outside my lecture hall earlier and he didn’t even say hello. He looked right at me and then ignored me.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you.”
“Did you miss the part where I literally just said he looked at me?”
She lets out a sigh. “He’s really not as bad as you think, Summer.” Under her breath, she mumbles, “Hollis, on the other hand…”
I pounce like a jackalope. Well, if a jackalope pounces, that is. And if I knew what a jackalope was. “If Hollis is such a bad guy, then why’d you sleep with him?”
“Because I was drunk. And we didn’t sleep together.”
“As I recall, you weren’t wearing pants yesterday morning…”
“I’m not sure if you learned this in sex ed, but it is possible to be naked with someone and not have sex.” She throws me another bone by relenting, “He’s not a terrible kisser.”
“Are you going to hook up with him again?”
“Absolutely not.”
Our food arrives, and Brenna is extra speedy about taking a huge bite of her club sandwich. I suspect it’s so she doesn’t have to talk.