Candice wasn’t able to make it because she’s probably having too much sex with her sexy, rugged boyfriend who happens to be a tree farmer. It doesn’t sound very exciting, but he works on the land and wears flannel a lot, and I not so secretly find that pretty sexy.
Caroline isn’t here either, and that’s because she took off to London early this morning with Alex for a week. He’s going there for business and she’s accompanying him, and we’re all trying our best not to be jealous about her jet-setting ways. I go nowhere, trapped as I am at Sweet Dreams and without a man to whisk me away to exotic locales.
Though, really, do I need a man to go to exotic locales? Of course not. I look around at my girls and know I could ask any of them if they wanted to take a girls’ trip, something we haven’t done in a couple of years, since we went to Mexico. We should plan a trip. Maybe a weekend celebration somewhere fun to celebrate Caroline’s upcoming nuptials.
With Caroline currently out of the country, this gives me free rein to talk about Carter, though I’ll have to watch my beer intake. I don’t want my tongue to get too loose, where I confess that Carter and I have done the deed.
That…wouldn’t be good.
Right?
“Deets about what?” I ask Eleanor, playing innocent. I know exactly what—more like who—she’s talking about.
“About your new roommate,” Eleanor says, her voice sing-songy, like she’s thrilled by this predicament.
I’m not thrilled. Not at all. I don’t like the fact that Carter is my roommate. We’ve only had one night living together, and I swear I could hear him breathe in the other room. Even though the door was shut—and mine was locked for extra protection—yes, I could hear him breathe. And it drove me crazy, thinking about what he might wear to bed.
Full set of pajamas? Doubtful.
PJ bottoms? Sexy, but probably not.
Good ol’ fashioned underwear? Maybe.
Naked? Ha, in my dreams.
I also couldn’t help but wonder if his hair is all rumply (is that a word?) when he first wakes up, like it was when we spent the night to—
“He’s fine,” I say irritably, which is the most accurate word I can use to describe him. We all know how I feel about his fineness. “I’m hoping he’ll move out soon. Like tomorrow.”
“Why? Is he that bad? I always thought he was kind of cute.” This comes from Amelia, who’s suddenly noticing every single man we come into contact with. The poor woman was so wrapped up in her jerk ex, she noticed nothing else, no one else but him for years.
Look how far that got her. Now she’s drowning her sorrows in half-off beer with her girlfriends on a Monday night.
“He’s okay.” I shrug, hating the lie. He’s not just okay. He’s sexy AF. “I didn’t really see him much yesterday. He spent most of it in his room.” I could hear him moving stuff around and banging on the wall with a hammer he borrowed from me—yes, I was kind enough to let him use it—and then I left around five. Sunday night dinner with the family, you know. That took about three hours I’ll never get back, and by the time I returned home it was almost nine. My bedtime, considering I get up so early for my shift at Sweet Dreams.
He never ventured out of his room when I came home, and I didn’t bother knocking on his door to make sure he’s alive. Though I could feel his vibes as mentioned earlier, so…yeah. The asshole is still alive.
I should stop calling him an asshole in my thoughts. He’s not the enemy. Not really. He’s just a guy who enjoys casual sex and has poor communication skills.
“I always hoped you two would get together.”
Sarah says this so casually, I nearly drop my beer mug. I send her a look, one that I’m hoping says are you freaking kidding me? But her expression remains annoyingly neutral so clearly my facial communication is lacking.
“Why in the world would you say that?” I ask, keeping my voice as even as possible. I set the mug back on the table, not even wanting to attempt to lift it. It’s heavy, and my hand’s gotten shaky, and I didn’t want anyone to see how her words affected me.
“Oh, I don’t know. There was a time about a year ago, I think, when we were all at Tuscany.”
Unease slithers down my spine and I remain quiet. The rest of the table is quiet too, all of them waiting for Sarah to continue.
“We were having some sort of get together. Every single one of you was there,” Sarah points out, her gaze landing on Amelia. “Even you.” Since Amelia was always with her shitty boyfriend and he never let her go anywhere with us, this was a big deal.
“Anyway, we were all drinking lots of wine and eating lots of delicious food and there was this weird energy going on.” Now Sarah is watching me, her gaze narrowed.
“What type of weird energy?” Eleanor asks breathlessly.
I wish I could kick Eleanor, but she’s not sitting right next to me and I don’t want to risk kicking someone else by accident.
“Sexual energy. Chemistry. And it was happening between her.” Sarah points at me. “And Carter.”
The entire table launches into conversation, so many things being said at once, I can only catch snippets.
“…he’s so attractive.”
“Stella wouldn’t—”
“No freaking way!”
“I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.”
That last bit was from me. Of course.
They’re all looking at me, some of them with disbelief, Eleanor with hope, and Sarah with a yeah, right expression on her face.
“Who even says that?” Amelia asks no one in particular. “‘I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.’ What does that even mean? And again, who says that sort of thing?”
“It means exactly what it says,” I explain slowly. “And my father always used to say that expression. I think that’s why I say it now.”
“Huh.” Amelia appears stumped.
“I’m not done with my story,” Sarah declares, and all eyes are on her once again. The loud TVs, the people talking all around us, all of it fades into a dull murmur as I concentrate on Sarah, fear rendering me quiet. I don’t want to know what she says next. I’m scared of it. Did she…oh God.
Did she see us?
“Please continue,” Eleanor says eagerly.
“At one point, our lovely Stella said she had to use the restroom. I asked if she wanted me to go with her and she said no, she’d be fine.” One delicate brow lifts, and I refuse to look at my too observant friend.
All of them make a little noise that is partially judgmental, I can tell. Women go to bathrooms in packs when they’re all out together. It’s just…that’s how it’s done. I don’t know why, I don’t know who started this thing, but we’ve always done it. Whether it’s just two of us in a giant bathroom with lots of stalls or six of us crammed into one tiny room with a single toilet and a constantly dripping sink that’s rust stained, we go together.
“Within a minute of her leaving the table, Carter left as well. Said he had to use the john, and I quote.”
I almost roll my eyes. He says the stupidest shit. John. Crib. Who is he?
“See, here’s the weird thing.” Sarah leans over the table, and everyone else leans toward her, including myself. I want to hear what she has to say, even though I actually don’t. She knows. Somehow, she knows Carter and I hooked up in that damn stupid bathroom, and I can’t believe she’s been holding onto this for an entire year. “Stella was gone for a long time. At least…fifteen minutes.”