So, why do I feel like Phoebe on Friends right now? Which, by the way, is a great show. Ben would always groan about how old it is whenever I wanted to watch it. Stupid. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about him. His annoying little grin and warm brown eyes, and…GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
If you think I’ve read the first paragraph of my Criminal Psych syllabus five times, you’re right. And the only thing I’ve retained is that the professor’s last name is Douché. I’m not even joking. Poor guy. From one weird name to another…I feel ya.
Maybe I should just give up on today and take a nap. But then my mom will get mad and go on and on about how “naps mess up your circadian clock, Les.” Heaven forbid.
Wait. She’s not here. I can totally take a nap without judgement. Ha!
I hop off my bed with renewed energy and shut off the light. With an overdramatic swipe, all my books and syllabi scatter on the floor. I cozy under the covers and smell the fresh scent of my fave laundry detergent. And I close my eyes with a smile on my face. Screw you, circadian clock.
My phone buzzes. I groggily reach for it because I literally just closed my eyes. My fingertip touches it, but I forget the direction I’m in and push the phone to the floor. It clatters against the hardwood. But it keeps buzzing.
I open my eyes. And…it’s dark. As in, like, no light coming in from my blackout shades whatsoever. So maybe I didn’t just close my eyes because my Apple Watch is saying it’s 8:05. Yep, three hours later. Whoops.
My cell stops buzzing for 0.3 seconds and then starts up again. I reach off the side of the bed and, thanks to my silk sheets, slide right off and land in an undignified pile on the floor. Maybe my mom wasn’t so wrong about me living alone because at least that wasn’t caught on camera by my roommate.
It’s not a number I recognize, so I answer with, “Hi, this is Les.”
In response? A laugh. A high-pitched, feminine laugh. One that belongs to a woman with light pink hair. “I hate to inform you, but this isn’t some employer calling. Just little ol’ me.”
I rub at my eyes and sigh, but my lips twitch in response. “What’s up, Candy?”
“We’re outside your building! Grab a swimsuit and come out here!”
There’s probably drool all over my face. I can guarantee I’d make a great advertisement for the newest racoon-style makeup trend that will never be in. “Um, who’s we?”
“Don’t worry, we’re Brody free.”
I’m tempted to correct her, but I think she just refuses to say Ben. Which is fine, because that’s an awesome friend to elevate my ex to the same level as Voldemort. “Who else is with you?”
She shushes whomever she’s with and says, “¿Por qué? You looking for Carter?” She says this all with a valley girl accent, which sounds suspiciously like me.
“Um, no. Give me two minutes and I’ll change.”
“Thanks, chica,” she says, and the line goes dead.
My swimsuits are still packed away, but thankfully, my mom was meticulous with labeling. In fact, I know exactly which box my bikinis are in because it’s labeled “Les’s Hooters’ Uniforms.” Obviously, the dignified neurosurgeon that she is has never been to a Hooters or she’d know they wear shorts and tanks. I grab the first bikini that matches and run out the door.
I see a Jeep parked below, and Candy sticks her upper body out of the window and waves. Is she drunk? She’s gotta be drunk.
“What’s up?” I open the rear door and hop inside, sliding in next to a tall, hot, dark wall of muscle. “Who are you?”
He flashes a bright grin with a large gap in his front teeth. “’Sup, girl? I’m Rykard.” His pecs suspiciously flex, and he has a tattoo of some bird over the right one. “Must’ve not made a good impression earlier.”
The guy driving turns around. “Yeah, that shit was golden. I’m Tom, by the way.” He smiles, and his teeth are such a stark contrast against his black skin that they nearly glow. I must ask him his teeth whitening routine. He shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking lot, throwing his hand palm up behind him so I can high five it.
The last guy in the third row is cute and blonde. “You tore B apart! I’m Jared,” he says, leaning over on my seat.
Don’t you worry, I’m getting lost with all the names too. “Nice to meet you all,” I mumble, wondering why I agreed to coming anyway. The attention is on me, and I feel awkward.
Candy turns around and claps her hands. “Thanks for coming, I didn’t want to be stuck with all my roomies tonight.”
“Then why’d you come?” Tom asks, turning the radio on.
She rolls her eyes. “Men.” She sighs, then runs her hand through Tom’s curly brown hair before lacing her fingers with his.
“So,” I half-yell over the loud music, “where are we going?”
Rykard unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots into the middle seat next to me. “The hot springs, duh.”
“Don’t people mostly go there in the winter? You know, when it’s cold out?” Who wants to hot tub in September?
Jared leans forward and puts his head between the two of us, wrapping his arms around Rykard’s neck. “Nah, it’s in the mountains, so it’s a bit cooler once we hike up there. You’ll like it.”
Candy screams some words to whatever song is playing. It pretty much sounds like the devil’s soundtrack. The guys begin talking (yelling) about training for the spring games and their grueling schedule. It makes me tired listening about it.
I scroll through Instagram as we drive, mindlessly getting lost in everyone’s updates. I’m twenty minutes deep when Ben’s username flashes at the top of the screen with the words, “Look, I’m sorry about tod…”
Ugh. I click on my inbox and find his dm.
B_maldon5: Look, I’m sorry about today. I was wrong and acted like an ass. Will you please call me?
Of course he wants me to call. I tap my fingers against the screen way harder than I need to.
Lesisbest: Why don’t you call me if you want to talk to me so bad?
I go back to the picture feed and see that Sheila from high school is engaged. She also announced her pregnancy last week. Bet her parents threatened to cut her out of the trust fund if she didn’t get married to the guy. #yayrichparents
B_maldon5: You blocked my number.
Drama king. I did not block his number. And just to prove so, I go to his contact in my phone, scroll down, and…
He’s right. Well, too bad, so sad. I’m here with three hot guys, my new best friend, and we’re going to get in some warm water. He can suck it.
“Just checking,” I lock my phone and shove it in the seatback in front of me, “Ben’s not going to be here, right?”
Candy shuts off the music, and I swear I hear a cat yowl and a record scratch. “I said we were Brock-free. He’s not coming.”
She’s kinda scary when she’s pissed. I wave my white flag and put my hands up. “Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure.”
Tom pulls onto a dirt road and follows it for a few minutes before turning into a larger area where maybe twenty cars are parked. He turns off the ignition and opens his door. “Up and at ‘em. We got a mile and a half hike.”