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“It’s a case study.”
I roll my eyes. “Leave me, and science, out of this.”
“Mr. Alfie Spencer,” Sydney announced, “is the hottest man who has, and likely who ever will, stand in this house, and the fact that none of you were here for it will be the greatest tragedy of this house.”
Ever since, the supposed hotness of Alfie Spencer has been passed around the Hive House like an ancient legend.
Sydney glances sadly at our newly bare tree.
“I’m just saying, I don’t understand why we only decorate for Christmas. There are other vacations. Doesn’t everyone feel happier with string lights?”
“We can decorate for Valentine’s Day,” Gianna suggests, forcing the lid onto one of the boxes.
Sydney recoils.
“Absolutely not. We will not be celebrating that capitalist scam in this house. Romantic love is a myth—nay, a lie designed to keep intelligent women distracted and underachieving.”
She pauses.
“Sex, however…”
Her eyes slide to me.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me. I’m not corroborating your sex-pest manifesto.”
“Oh, come on. While we’re all spinsters—”
“I am not a spinster,” Gianna interrupts. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, well. Mark doesn’t count. He’s basically one of the girls.”
Gianna huffs.
“Like I was saying, although we’re all tragic, lonely spinsters, we can admit men are good for one thing. A large, juicy, deeply satisfying—”
“What are you guys talking about?”
Ashley bursts into the room carrying an armful of empty hangers.
“Cock,” I say.
“Thank you,” Sydney says, pointing at me.
Ashley nods. “Right. Of course.” She mutters something about us being degenerates. I can’t blame her.
“I was not discussing anything,” Gianna protests.
“That’s because Mark never gives you anything to discuss.”
“Ow!” Gianna opens the box and throws Santa Mickey at her head.
“Don’t use him as a weapon!”
“Are you weighing in, Bea?”
“Nope. You guys know my stance.”
“Ugh. You’re in college, Bea. Just because you have a reliable hookup back home doesn’t mean you have to be celibate all semester.”
