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“Like, a boxer.”Īnne swiveled bodily to face Laurel, almost comically impressed. You won’t even see me.”Īnne’s head turned a fraction. I’ll, like, swoop down from my shadowy perch and beat you down, bitches. “I’m somewhere in the middle,” Anne said. I just, like, curl up into a ball and want to hide.” Some people get an adrenaline rush and they’re like foosh, give me somebody to beat down. “I don’t have the right…programming for it. “I couldn’t stand competing for a man like that,” Laurel murmured. “Would you say this show makes something incredibly complex-you know, relationships-into something mind-numbingly vapid? Or does it make something actually rather simple into a big fucking circus?” Laurel stared at the screen, laughed at Anne’s comments but felt another pang jolt her insides. Chug if they strip and bum-rush the pool.”Īnne hit play. Though I bet it’d work better as a drinking game,” Laurel said. too early to watch The Bachelor and mock all the giggly, desperate women?” They took their coffees into the living room and Anne switched on the TV, scanning through her roster of recorded shows. I’d like to meet the guy who made you do that for the first time in, like, a whole year.” “Yes indeed.” Laurel grinned as she poured cream into her cup and earned herself a nudge in the ribs. “He’s gawt a wicked heavy accent.”Īnne pulled the pot out before it was done brewing, drops of coffee hitting the burner with a sizzle, another offense Christie would surely want to make note of. “So can you tell me anything about your mysterious new conquest?” Anne asked. They both crossed their arms and stared at the burbling coffeemaker.
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She set two mugs on the counter and Laurel stood the half and half carton beside them. “She must be boning up on dairy liabilities.” Anne’s ability to shrug off other people’s psychoses was her most admirable trait. “Not getting my hopes up though.” She wandered to the fridge, read Christie’s latest passive-aggressive Post-It then rolled her eyes at Anne. She’d been blaming her delay in diving back into the engineering pool on the crappy state of the economy, but really the mere idea of it made her sick to her stomach. “It is, actually, and that’s exactly how I want things to be right now.” It’s not an exclusive thing.”Īnne filled the pot and flipped the coffeemaker on. “Depending on whose criteria you’re going by, a lot. He’s just not, you know, boyfriend material.” Laurel was tempted to run with the proffered excuse and be done with the conversation, but she wasn’t much on lying. It was so bad you caught the T as soon as it started running? I hate those mornings.” You want coffee?”Īnne pulled the canister out of the fridge. You might’ve got away with your little midnight rendezvous if I hadn’t barged in there to see if you were on fire. It’s nothing serious or anything.” She ignored Anne’s skeptical eyebrow. Laurel pushed her shoes off, resigned to the grilling she frankly owed her friend after months of romantic flatlining. “It’s Bactine.” She hoped that wasn’t what Flynn had smelled in the car. “Like the nastiest cocktail ever invented.” “You smell like…” Anne came in close for a whiff. “I’ve got messy hair,” Laurel corrected, mussing it further with her hands.
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“You’ve got sex hair,” Anne said, doing her mischievous little thumb-biting thing, practically glowing with triumph. “I was…out,” Laurel offered, dropping her bag on the counter. Christie had morphed into some mutant Ally McBeal wannabe since discovering her brand-new life-long dream of going to law school. She was by far Laurel’s favorite of her two roommates.
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“What are you doing, just getting home?” Anne grinned, blue eyes full of gleeful suspicion. “What are you doing up?” Laurel asked, looking to the microwave clock.
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When she crept through the front door of her apartment, Laurel was surprised to be greeted by Anne’s round, expectant face. She rolled her eyes at him and unstrapped her seat belt. He grinned indulgently then pecked a hard kiss on her temple. He pulled up to the curb and leaned over, close. “You sure came on strong in that sub shop.” Confrontation gives me hives.” She realized with disappointment that they were nearly at her building. I can’t even stand to get into arguments with my roommates over the dishes. “Featherweight, depending on who’s running the fight. “What are you, like a hundred and twenty?”