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“What look?”
“I’ve seen this before. You bottle your shit up so tight that it’s like no one can see it, not even you, but I can. You’re in denial, and you like him way more than you’re letting on—or maybe even more than you realize. You’re trying so hard to fool yourself that you don’t even see it.”
“Are you kidding?” I pull her out of the kitchen and into the hallway to ensure our conversation is way out of the relative hearing space of Jeremy. “Have you seen him? He’ssonot my type. The guy lives and breathes formulas and science. He likely even has a pocket protector. He’s neatly contained in a square box, and I’m a glop of grape jelly, splattered all over the floor on a good day. We aren’t exactly compatible.”
“Then, why have you been spending so much time with him?” She crosses her arms and raises her brow. “And don’t tell me it’s for your project. I’m not stupid. This all started before break, and there was no art theory class last quarter.”
“Maybe it’s the sex.”
“Must be really great then.”
“Shit yeah, it is. The best I’ve ever had.”
“The best you’ve ever had?” she challenges.
“Shut up,” I say in an attempt to halt the conversation.
“Maybe it is the sex, but I’d be willing to bet that it’s a little more than that.”
“You’ve been reading too many women’s magazines and self-help articles.”
“Or maybe I see something between you two that you don’t.”
Bringing my hand to my head, I press my fingertips into my temple. “Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?”
“Honestly? Because I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt. This whole thing just reeks of a mess. Friends with benefits? Someone is always on the losing end of these things. They never end well.”
“Yeah, well, not with me. I’ve got it covered.”
“Then, maybe he’ll be the one to get hurt.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I tell her with the utmost conviction.
She laughs silently to herself, shaking her head. “Complete denial.”
