I nod, working on the second row of cookies. “She’s an artist.”
Mila gets excited. “You should do this for people. Like just start posting your art on socials. Throw your pretty face in there and your Pilates routine. You’d blow up.”
Penelope continues drawing a line. “I wish it were that easy.”
A knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Gianna’s head pops through the front door.
“Come in,” I say.
“Hi,” Mila says, turning to her.
Mara is right behind her. They walk in and close the door behind them.
Gianna inhales. “Oh, we’re coming here every time there’s a study session.” She looks at the counter. “That looks so good.”
Mara walks around her. “Melly!” she gushes. “I knew there was a reason I immediately had a girl crush on you. You’re so wholesome.”
My face warms at that.Girl crush?I didn’t know that was a thing. “The ones on this rack just came out.” I just remembered that I took them out and didn’t turn the oven off. I turn around and turn it off. “These are cool and ready. Have as many as you want.”
“And wine?” Mara says.
“That was Mila,” I say, looking at Mila. Mila is still raving over Penelope’s drawings.
“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” I say to Mara, remembering our texts from earlier.
She shakes her head. “I canceled on the dickhead. It’s fine.”
I look at Gianna. Gianna takes a bite of the cookie, ignoring us. “This is so good. Mara eat one.”
Mara grabs a cookie and eats it. “So good,” she mumbles.
They set their bags on the dining table. Gianna and Mara talk about something while I work around in the kitchen to clean up my baking mess. Then I start cooking the chicken because Penelope is in the zone right now. She doesn’t want to stop to cook, so I take over. It takes me about twenty minutes to finish cooking it. I ask who’s hungry and plate the chicken and veggies for the girls that are.
We sit at the dining room table with our laptops and notebooks, talking about our classes. Mila and Mara need to work on essays. Gianna has spreadsheets to fill out. Penelope is almost done with her drawing. I open my social work theory textbook.
I eat my dinner and then have a cookie after. Then I drink an entire glass of water.
Mila lifts her head when I’m at the sink. “I am going to die.”
“You might not be able to tell, but I’m so frustrated,” Gianna says, not looking up.
“You don’t seem like it,” Mara says. “Good for you. You have better self-control than me.”
Gianna says, “Thank you.”
Mila looks at me and whispers so she’s not interrupting everyone again, “I’m rewriting the intro over and over and over.” Her eyes widen, turning back to the screen.
I pour myself a glass of wine and walk back to my chair. I tuck my left foot under me and return to my assignment.
Mila makes a noise that sounds like a dying frog.
All the girls look over and giggle.
Mara says, “What the hell was that?”
Penelope walks over to Mila and looks at her paper. She reads it for a silent minute, then says, “Okay. If you start tonight, eight hundred words. Tomorrow night, eight hundred. Friday morning, eight hundred. You have a paper. What you have isn’t bad. Keep going.”
Mila stares at her. “Penelope. You are a goddess.”
