Page 11 of Friends with Benefits

Well, the first line.

Evelyn Bloom,

Congratulations, you have been selected to join NEXT IN FOLEY as a fellow in our upcoming cohort, studying under the mentorship of Golden Reel Award winner Sadie Silverman.

It’s validating and heartbreaking. Evie wipes at the angry tears that run down her cheeks. Shit. This is why she never applied to Next in Foley, why she told Imogen that she would never apply. Now that she’s not only been accepted but has the opportunity to work with a Foley artist who she admires the hell out of, she wants it so bad.

And there’s just no way.

She crunched the numbers once, to see if it would be possible, but the premiums on healthcare in the open marketplusthe increase in out-of-pocket costs of the medications that keep her in remission would bankrupt her before the program was over.

Imogen knows this.

Theo’s frown is surprised. “You’re not happy.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t do it. Genknew this, but she forged my application anyway.”

“Evelyn.” Theo runs a hand through disheveled dark brown curls, his thick Eugene Levy–esque eyebrows knitted together with concern. “What if—”

The front door of the bungalow swings open and crashes against the wall with a loudbang.

Theo jumps to his feet.

“Gen?” Evie shouts, a hopeful guess because she’s the only person besides herself and Theo with a key, and also it would be so satisfying to chew out her sister in real time. “You scared the shit out of us!”

Silence.

Then, footsteps.

“Shit.” Evie stands, her brain shifting from being pissed at her sister to worst-case scenario as depicted in every true-crime podcast she listens to like the basic white girl she is. She grabs a frying pan off the counter and holds it like a baseball bat, channeling her inner Rapunzel.Tangledwas a formative film. Theo reaches for the bulk bag of matzo meal and ducks behind the island, reaching for Evie’s hand to pull her down to hide with him.

Evie is somehow, impossibly, both terrified and amused. “What exactly is the plan? Bludgeon the intruders with a bag of matzo meal?”

“Shut up. I panicked,” Theo whispers.

Outside, a car door slams.

Are nighttime intruders usually soloud?

“What do we do?”

“Call nine-one-one?”

“My phone is on the couch.”

Theo pats his pockets. “Mine too. Shit.”

“Go get it,” Evie says.

“Me?”

“Take this.”

She holds out the frying pan and he gives her alook. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s more useful than your panic weapon of choice.”

“I’m not—”

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