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I try to stick to my meal plan religiously, with the odd party here and there to keep me lucid. My best friend’s twenty-first birthday yesterday was the perfect opportunity to let loose a little, even if it did mean braving Brady with a hangover.
We climb into Aaron’s new G-Wagon, the latest guilt gift from his adulterous but wealthy father, and head home. Aaron and I decided it would be cool to live together, with my best friend, Sabrina, at
the end of freshman year. Our schedules are similar, and our lives revolve around skating, so it made sense.
Aaron takes the turn onto Maple Avenue and looks over at me while I rummage through my purse for my most prized possession. “What does the planner say you’re doing tonight?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring his teasing tone. “Getting laid.”
“Ew,” he says, the tip of his nose wrinkling as he grimaces. “It’s bad enough you plan what time you sleep and eat, but do you need to plan having sex?”
He’s not lying about the sleeping and eating thing, every minute of my life is meticulously scheduled in my trusty planner, which my friends find equal parts hilarious and ridiculous. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m a control freak, but I’m a woman who needs to be in control.
There’sdefinitelya difference.
I shrug, suppressing the urge to point out that at least I’m getting some, unlike him. “Ryan is a busy guy and I’m a busy girl. I want to see him as much as I can before basketball season.”
Ryan Rothwell is six foot, six inches of pure, athletic perfection. UCMH point guard and team captain, he’s as serious about his sport as I am, which makes for a perfect no-strings-attached situation. The added benefit is Ry is the sweetest guy, so we’ve become great friends through our mutually beneficial arrangement.
“I can’t believe you’re still fucking around with him. He’s like double your size, how does he not crush you? No, wait. I don’t want to know.”
“I know he is.” I giggle, pinching his cheeks until he bats me away. “Sorta the whole point.”
Most people assume Aaron and I are more than partners, but we’re more like siblings. It’s not that he isn’t good looking, we’ve just never had any romantic interest in each other.
Aaron is much taller than me and lean like a dancer with his sculpted, muscular body. His black hair is kept short, and I swear he wears mascara because his sky-blue eyes are framed with the darkest, jealousy-inducing lashes, contrasting prominently against his pale skin.
“I officially know too much about your sex life, Anastasia.”
Aaron can’t decide if he likes Ryan or not. Sometimes he’s cool with him and Ryan gets to see the Aaron I see—the one who’s fun to be around. You’d assume Ryan had personally ruined Aaron’s life or something the rest of the time. Aaron can be so abrupt and harsh that it’s embarrassing. It’s unpredictable, but Ryan brushes it off and tells me not to worry about it.
“I promise to not talk about it for the rest of the drive home if you promise to give me a ride to Ryan’s later.”
He contemplates for a minute or so. “Okay, deal.”
* * *
Sabrina looksup from the salad she’s stabbing aggressively with her fork and huffs. “I’m just saying, who’s dick is Olivia Abbott sucking to get the lead role for the third year in a row?”
I can’t help but cringe at her harsh words, but I know she doesn’t mean it. She was already feeling delicate this morning after the copious amounts of alcohol we consumed last night for her birthday, so today wasn’t the best day to find out she didn’t get the part she wanted.
I’ve watched every show for the past two years, and Brin knows as well as I do, Olivia is an exceptionally talented actor.
“Can she not just be very talented? And not be sucking someone’s dick?”
“Anastasia, will you please let me be petty for five minutes and pretend I don’t know she’s better than me?”
Aaron throws himself into the chair beside me and reaches over to pick a carrot stick from my plate. “What’re we being petty about?”
“Olivia Abbott,” Brin and I respond in unison, the distaste in her tone evident as hell.
“She’s hot. Might be the hottest girl on campus,” he says nonchalantly, clearly not paying attention to how Sabrina’s jaw drops. “Is she single?”
“Ya Allah.How am I supposed to freaking know? She doesn’t talk to anyone. She swans in, gets the role I want, and carries on being an anomaly.”
Sabrina studies performing arts, and it must be an unwritten rule that you have to have a larger-than-life personality, because everyone I’ve met on her course is like her. It’s usually an exhausting battle for attention, even as a spectator, but Olivia keeps to herself, and for some reason, it seems to bother people.
“I’m sorry, Brinny. There’s always next time,” I offer. We both know it doesn’t mean anything, but she blows me a kiss anyway. “If it makes you feel any better—I still can’t land my Lutz. Aubrey is going to work it out soon and banish me to Siberia.”
