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“What?” she hollers back.
I shake my head, giggling, then I grab my phone to text her.
Me: Can we go somewhere a little quieter? Like a death metal concert?
Sasha: Sure.
We head back to my place, where I’m relieved to learn both Sophie and Sara are out. I haven't seen much of either of them since they’ve been back. It’s been a completely different experience from last time they stayed here. I almost don't mind having them stay—not that I’d ever tell Sara that. If I did, they’d never leave.
“Tell me what happened already?” Sasha begs. “The suspense is killing me. Who is he?”
“Just a guy,” I say nonchalantly.
I trust Sasha, but I don’t trust some of the people she’s friends with. Mainly Lisa. I’m debating how much to tell her, just in case she lets it slip. I grab two waters out of the fridge and carry them over to the couch. When I hold one out for Sasha, she recoils back, like I’m offering her sour milk.
“When you said a drink, I thought you meant alcohol,” she admits with a giggle.
I make a face. Too bad the only thing remotely alcoholic in this whole apartment is the sherry hidden at the back of my pantry, that Mom used to make a dessert three years ago when she, and my Great-Aunt Leila came to stay for a weekend. She used half the bottle, then left the dessert out on the table. My Great-Aunt Leila’s poodle, Clancy, thought it was his dinner. Poor Clancy ended up with alcohol poisoning and needed his stomach pumped, while Mom had a very stern conversation with the animal protection police.
I smile apologetically at Sasha. Then I remember something. “Hold that thought,” I murmur, racing over to my purse. I fumble through it, looking for Lou’s card and then I navigate to her website to place an order.
I’m impressed with how simple the process is. There’s even a space where I can add a special request. There’s no chance in me leaving that blank. I put my hand up to silence Sasha when my phone rings. It’s Lou—as I suspected.
“Is this a joke?” she demands.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“You want me to deliver you a bottle of wine, wearing nipple tassels, while dancing the Macarena?”
“Why have a special request box if you don’t want people using it?” I snap.
“You hate wine,” Lou protests.
“Maybe you converted me,” I say, to which Lou snorts. I sigh. “Fine. Sasha from work is here. She was horrified when I offered her water.”
“I would be too,” Lou mutters. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”It takes Lou ten minutes to get from her house to my apartment, so there’s no way in hell she had time to stop and buy that wine. I narrow my eyes at her as I open the door, and nod at the bottle of wine in her hand.
“You got here awfully fast for someone who had to stop and buy wine,” I say suspiciously.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I brought a bottle from home.”
“I paid you eighty dollars for that?” I laugh. I grab it off her. “Lou, it’s open.”
“What?” she protests. “There’s only a little bit gone. Besides, you weren’t paying for the alcohol. You were paying for this.”
With the Macarena blaring from her phone, she flings off her jacket and shakes her breasts in my face, complete with bright pink nipple tassels swinging around in perfect circles. Sasha gapes at her in shock, her expression so alarmed, I can’t help laughing. The song ends and Lou waltzes past me, walking through my apartment to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for wine glasses. She looks up at me suddenly and frowns.
“You look different.”
“I think she had sex,” Sasha pipes up.
“You had sex?” Lou gasps. “And you didn’t call me immediately after?”
I groan and cover my face with my hands. Seriously?
“Will you both stop it?” I beg.
Lou’s eyes widen. “You slept with—ouch.” She jumps back in shock when I pinch her. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“To shut you up,” I growl. I roll my eyes in the direction of Sasha. Lou smiles, finally getting it.
“She slept with who?” Sasha calls out from where she’s sprawled out on my couch.
“Was he as good as he makes himself out to be?” Lou jokes.
Sasha nearly falls over herself getting up. She sprints over to us, and grabs hold of my arm. “It was Brix, wasn’t it?” she gasps.
“What?” I say, laughing off her question. “Of course, not—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Hannah. It was him!”
I groan. “Fine. It was Brix. Happy?”
“I sure as fuck am,” Lou shouts. “It’s about time someone dusted those cobwebs off.”
“Holy shit, are you kidding me?” Sasha squeals. She dances around, her eyes wide. “No fucking way. I can’t believe it. You’re more adventurous than I thought.”
“What do you mean?” I say.
