Page 57 of A Better Place

“Um, no. Carly is my full name.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is. Too!”

She points at me.

I wave her off, figuring she’ll never give up, and quite honestly, I don’t really care enough. It’s not worth arguing about.

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted… what’s up with you and my big bro?”

“We’re friends.” I deflect, not wanting to even go there with this group of drunks.

“Nuh-uh. I know better,” she says, leaning her elbow on the table and pointing at me with narrowed eyes.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat under her accusations.

“My brother. He’s in l-o-v-e love. You two are like that one love song. You know that one? That takes forever to start singing because there’s that long guitar intro?”

Lauren breaks out into surprisingly in-tune singing, “Love is al-l-ll around you!”

“That’s the one!”

She presses one hand to her heart and reaches out her other toward Tess as she continues singing the words to a song I haven’t heard in ages.

Christine holds up her phone like a lighter in a concert, and everyone’s eyes in the entire restaurant are on the two — or three — goobers.

When they finally finish singing, Lauren shifts into serious-mode as she pours herself another — not needed in any way — margarita and continues to top the rest of ours off.

“Tell us the deets, girlfriend,” Lauren says, taking another sip.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The. Details. All of them. Tell us everything,” she says, smiling.

I look around the table, and the other girls are nodding their heads encouragingly.

“I told him I needed it to stay in the friend-zone, and he’s been honoring that.” I speak quickly and look away before taking a large swig of my tangy drink.

Tess snorts. Actually snorts.

Christine falls out of her chair from laughing so hard.

Lauren lifts up the glass pitcher and shouts, “Amigo! We’re gonna need another por favor! She’s too tight-lipped!”

“Oh, for the love,” I grumble. “You guys in no way need more to drink tonight.”

Tess starts shaking her head. “You’re probably right. I really don’t want to cross that fine line. Ya know? Because right now I’m feeling frisky. F-R-I-Zzzzzz-K-Y. I’m gonna get me some lovin’ when I get home. Y’all have no-o-o-o idea. If you feel hard up, just go to this cabin in the woods and poof!” She slaps her hands together and then does something that looks like jazz hands. “It fixes everything. It’s magic,” she says with her hands splayed wide in front of her. “I’m talking kitchen sex, couch sex, bathroom sex, hot tub sex, outdoors sex… everywhere sex. And tonight I’m gonna make Barrett my sex sla-a-v-ve,” she says, still much too loudly, but adds a whipping sound and motion.

“What’s the fine line?” Christine asks, like that’s the most shocking or confusing thing that just spewed out of Tess’s mouth.

“Oh, please. Like you don’t remember. The fine line?” She looks to Lauren, apparently for her to explain.

“Oh! My turn?” Lauren straightens up in her seat and addresses us like she’s speaking to a class, and actually points to an invisible chalkboard and pushes up invisible glasses on her nose. “The fine line. Better known as the line between ‘Ima gonna rip your pants off and blow you in the car on the way home and hong-choo-hong-choo.’ You know. The fine line.”

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