“Yeah, that you got me stoned, then made me fall off your roof!” I glare down at my Popeye arm, remembering now how it wouldn’t work last night. “And then youstraddled me!”
“Whoa!” Nomi turns around, all concern for my privacy lost in flushed indignation. “None of that is my fault! You fell off because you started freaking out, like you’re doing right now by the way, and thenyoustarted playing withmy vibrator! I had to get it back!” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“I wasn’t playing with it!”
“What else do you call singing into it like a microphone?” Nomi’s eyes narrow. “SingingCéline Dion. How am I supposed to use it after witnessingthat?”
A tight, blistering panic has taken over my chest, pushing out my organs. Who needs oxygen? Raw mortification fuels me now.
What else did I do last night?
When I try to remember details, what floats up is just Nomi. Nomi on my lap. Nomi’s hand peeking through the shower curtain, holding a slice of pizza for me to eat so I’d shower. Nomi on the couch, her shoulder shaking next to mine as she laughed.
“I didn’t ask you out, did I?” I demand.
Nomi rears back like I pushed her. “No, why would you think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because I woke up after being drugged dressed like a femme Ken doll in your house?! Anything could’ve happened!” I throw my arms in the air, then immediately groan as my left arm explodes in agony. “And I think you broke my arm!”
Nomi shakes her head, disgusted. “Well. The spell’s broken. You’re back to yourself now.” She sniffs, her eyes strangely wet. “You should leave.”
I stomp past her, cradling my destroyed left appendage, and snatch my glasses and phone from the coffee table.
My messages app sports a bone-chilling178red flag. Has someone died?!
I unlock my phone and nearly vomit.
The D’Angelo family text chain is popping off before my eyes. Pictures of me come in, one after another. Me with the perfect beer pong throw. Me pumping my fist like I won the Olympic gold. Me chest-bumping midair with Ellio. Interspersed between the picture texts are a hodgepodge of emojis—laughing faces, skulls, praise hands.
Julian got stoned?!
OMG, tell us everything!
He was the life of the party!
I heard he sang Céline Dion to Nomi! Like right in her face.
Noooo
Titanic WAS his favorite movie in kindergarten, tho.
Well, I heard he fell off the roof!
No! That’s a sin.
He did!!
Four pictures of me teetering, falling, then sprawled across the hedge, then grinning up from the ground hit the text chain in quick succession.
He’s fine, tho.
He was great.Marco pipes in.Then he hooked up with Nomi Wyeth!
Yes!!! Julie could use a good rogering!!That gem was from Mom.
A flood ofgood jobs!come in next, along with baby emojis and wedding bells.
OMG COULD YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT ME, MY GOD!!!!!!I hammer out the text one-handed, order a Lyft because I can’t drive right now, then shove the phone away. When I look up, Nomi’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over her chest. A look of profound disappointment hangs on her face.
