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I point to my room in the middle. “This one.”
“Okay, good. So we’re together either way, then.” She chooses the room to my left, and I follow her inside as she unpacks. When she places her bags down, I notice her bed frame doesn’t squeak.
“This weekend is going to be so fun,” she says with a sigh, dumping her duffel bag out in its entirety on the old quilt. She begins sorting through her makeup and clothing, none of which has been organized or folded. I chuckle to myself. She’s exactly what I expected, and it’s refreshing.
“If we don’t all die,” I tease, reminding her of the message she sent just a few days ago.
“Right.” She winks. “So sad about Ethan, right?”
“Yeah.” I sit down on the side of her bed. “Speaking of, how well do you know Memphis?”
Her head jerks up, her face serious. “Oh no. What’d he do?”
“Nothing.”
Her brows shoot up.
“No, I mean, really nothing. We just…sort of met earlier this week.”
“You mean youmet,met?” She rocks her hips forward suggestively with a wink.
“No.” I cover my mouth with a loud laugh. “God, no. Nothing like that. He interviewed me for his bookstore.”
Her eyes widen. “He owns a bookstore? Do you get discounts? Discounts you could share with your very best friend?” Before I know it, she’s up on the bed, crawling toward me, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Your best friend who loves you so much?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” I say, waving her off playfully. “Because he didn’t hire me.”
“That asshole.” Her response is instantaneous. “We should kick him out. We should put shaving cream in his hand while he sleeps and tickle his nose with a feather. No! We should put his hand in warm water and make him pee the bed. Does that work? My cousin and I tried it on her younger brother when we were little, but I don’t remember if it ever worked.” She looks at me with wide eyes and shakes her head. “Sorry, what were we talking about? Memphis! Right. Ugh, asshole.”
I toss my head back onto the pillow. “Yeah, well, it’s fine. I just didn’t realize he’d be here, and that makes this all a little bit awkward.”
“I’m sorry.” She winces. “What can I do? Want me to be the buffer all weekend? We can pretend he doesn’t exist. I’m seriously the best at that. Memphis who?” She snaps her fingers and leans back on one leg dramatically.
“Shhh! Don’t let him hear you. It’s seriously not a big deal. I just didn’t realize the two of you knew each other.”
“Eh”—she waves her hand—“barely. We connected last year on that big Thanksgiving giveaway that ZoeBooks organized. Do you remember me telling you about that?”
“Yeah.”
“So, he was one of the others involved in that. We’ve chatted a bit here and there, and then he messaged me yesterday sort of out of the blue to ask if I was coming to this and if I knew who else was.”
“So, you told him I’d be here?” I ask, tension in my chest.
“Um, yeah, I guess so. Oh, what do you think that means? Maybe he wanted to see you again to apologize? Maybe he wants tomeet”—her pelvis rocks forward playfully with the word—“you again.”
“I doubt it. He probably just didn’t realize who I am. I rarely post photos of my face online. Although, it’s pretty funny that he’s an influencer considering that when I told him this is what I do during my interview, he acted like it was ridiculous.” I put on my best impression of him. “‘I’m not interested in what’s in, I’m interested in what’s good.’”
She snorts, covering her nose and mouth. “Oh my gosh, it checks out. I can totally picture him saying that. He has theI’m better than you because I read smart people booksvibe, for sure. Hey, speaking of that, what books did you bring?” She climbs back off the bed and begins to take things out of her second bag, which seems to be filled mostly with hardback books. “I brought practically everything on my fall TBR, plus a few favorites from the year that I haven’t posted about yet. And I figure we can all mix and match books, too, so we can make extra content.”
“Good idea,” I say. “We have a few of the same.” I point to her copy of Blakely Baldwin’s newest book and the Cait Du Bois novel I just started. “But I have plenty in my room, too. We can go through them later.”
“Awesome.” She looks up, wiggling a brow at me. “So…since wedefinitelydon’t like Memphis, is it okay to say that Austin’s pretty hot?”
“What?” I scoff, wrinkling my nose. “You think so?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s got that…what’s that guy fromAmerican Horror Story?” She taps a finger to her temple. “I can’t think of his name. The actor who played…well, like, everyone.” With a laugh, she goes on. “Uh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Peter? Peters? Evan Peters! Yes! He has that Evan Peters vibe. You know?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I guess I wasn’t really paying attention, but sure.”
