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“Really? How come?”
I flip open my laptop, which is on its last leg and takes forever to boot up. “It was cold last night.”
“Weren’t you wearing a thick sweater?”
“I was. You kinda threw up on it.”
Amy’s mouth drops. “I did? OMG, I am so sorry. Oh, shit, I can’t believe I did that in front of JD and Darren! I’ll pay to have your sweater dry-cleaned.”
“Actually, it’s probably in some dumpster back at The Lotus.”
Amy grimaces. “Oh, God. I swear I will never drink that much again.”
“It’s okay. The sweater wasn’t exactly a big hit with anyone,” I recall with a wry grin as I try to get my computer to connect to the internet. That sweater did a good job keeping me warm. Now what am I going to wear in its place?
Her eyes glimmer. “You planning on returning the jacket?”
“’Course. It’s not mine.”
She goes to the closet and pulls out the jacket. “An excuse to go back to The Lotus.”
I’m not nearly as excited as she is. She slips into the jacket, which was large on me and looks gigantic on her petite and slender frame.
“OMG, this fabric is amazing. Have you ever felt anything so smooth and comfy?”
Although I already know what Amy is talking about, I feel the sleeve and idly wonder how Darren’s embrace compares to being wrapped in his jacket.
Holy crap. Why did that thought come into my head?
“I should text JD that we have his cousin’s jacket,” Amy says and cheerfully reaches for her cell.
I turn my attention to the computer and manage to get my old resume up on Google Docs. Reviewing it, I try to decide if I should update what I have or start from scratch.
“Do you think he hasn’t gotten my text or he’s just ignoring it?” Amy asks three minutes later.
“Maybe he’s in the middle of something,” I offer.
“Like what?”
“A business meeting, maybe.”
“You know what he does?”
“He’s…” I realize I have a pretty vague idea of what JD does for a living. “In trade or something like that. I think he said something about importing and exporting chemical compounds.”
Amy makes a face. “That sounds so boring. I thought his job would be, I dunno, flashier, sexier.”
I go back to working on my resume, but Amy interjects five minutes later, “People can text during business meetings.”
“Maybe he put his phone on silent so he can focus.”
“But it would vibrate.”
“He could have lost his phone. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
But Amy doesn’t seem placated. She scrolls through social media apps, goes to the kitchen and returns with chips, then checks her phone again.
The mother in me wants to remind her that she has a test in Human Biology that she said yesterday she needed to study hard for, but her mind is so fixed on a response from JD that it would probably be hard for her to concentrate anyway.
