AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was right–I’m not.
I sigh, dragging myself off the tan couch cushions and grabbing my phone from the end table. My stomach growls, and I grab a yogurt cup just before popping a piece of fancy sourdough bread I found at the grocery store into the toaster.
My phone sounds while I’m stuffing strawberry flavored sugar and dairy into my face, but I don’t really care because it’s Lennon.
Her face fills the small screen on my phone, faint sounds of dishes clinking in the background behind where she sits on the couch. I see her mom open the fridge somewhere behind her, and for what it’s worth, she doesn’t look like she’s projectile vomiting.
“What would happen if I quit my job?” I start, skipping a greeting.
Lennon’s smile stretches slowly across her freckled face and she pops what looks like a gummy bear into her mouth. “Hello.” she says. “How are you, Ellis? How has life been? Did you get railed?”
“Shush!” I whisper yell. Balancing my phone against the vase of flowers on my kitchen counter, I shake my head. “I can see your mom in the background!”
“Oh, please!” Lennon cackles, tilting her head back. “Stella doesn’t mind. Do you mom?”
Her mom pops into the frame, leaning over the back of the couch. Lennon is the spitting image of her mother. Stella smiles and wrinkles form at the corners of her eyes. Her hair is pulled back into a claw clip, and her skin doesn’t look sallow in the slightest. The picture of health. “Is that Ellis Smalley? My favorite of my daughter’s best friends.”
“She’s lying!” Lennon shoves her face closer to the phone, blocking her mom out. “You’re my only best friend. I’m not whoring myself out, I swear. You, on the other hand–”
Stella snorts, and I feel like I might be having a hot flash. “Lennon,” I warn, but she only responds by cackling.
“Okay, so you want to quit your job all of a sudden. What has the boy done to you? Was it that huge?”
I roll my eyes, but I know my cheeks are flaming. Stella takes that as her cue to go back to the other side of the room. “We just kissed. And I am just realizing I literally hate marketing. It’s the worst, and while I love Rupert and Mallory is a decent boss, I hate the smell of tuna, the dungeon, and–”
“What does tuna have to do with it?” she asks. I wave a hand.
“Not important. I just think I want to do something else.”
“So, do it.” Lennon’s smile has softened into a pleasant expression. There’s nothing behind her green eyes but belief and hope–not a single worry to be found.
“I can’t.”
She pulls her phone down, and I can hear tapping on the screen. I’m left with the unsightly image of the inside of Lennon’s nostrils. “Sure you can,” she adds. “It’s literally your life. You can quit your job and move to Peru. You can keep your job and find a second outlet, something you're passionate about. The world is wide open. Also, don’t think we won’t be discussing this kiss. Did he use tongue?”
I ignore her question, furrowing my brows. She’s always like this–thinking things are simple and easy. If Lennon wants to do something, she just does it. Her job at the pediatric office nearby is temporary. Lennon has her sights set on buying an old house and converting it into a bed and breakfast. I have no doubt she will do it, too.
“Why am I looking up your nostrils right now?” The toaster pops, and I realize I’ve just created coal. I might as well be Santa’s supplier for all the kids that wipe boogers on their school papers.
“I’m going to order you some ice cream and have it delivered.” Lennon is still typing on her phone as I try to fish out two pieces of toast that I’m certain are the same temperature as the sun.
“I’ll just order my own ice cream,” I say.
Lennon snorts.“You better fucking not. It’s almost your birthday, let me buy you ice cream, you heinous bitch.”
“I’m already there.” I’m not. I don’t have the app pulled up at all, but I know it’ll irritate her.
“Don’t do it. I swear to God.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I’d swear to Jesus instead. He seemed more chill. The God of the Old Testament might give you leprosy.”
“Jesus would give you leprosy, too.”
I briefly consider buying myself a second pint of ice cream anyway. One can be for my mid-life crisis about my hopes and dreams, and the other can be for celebrating Finn’s firm backside. It’s the eighth wonder of the world.
“Jesus would cure my leprosy, Lennon.”
“I’mthreatening to giveyouleprosy!” Lennon’s tiny face in the corner of my phone lights up. “Besides, you’ll have ice cream in twenty-minutes. Don’t order it for yourself. Also, we did our family Christmas thing and I’ll be home on Wednesday.”
