Page 51 of Confessions of a High School Guidance Counselor

“You’re not wrong.” I tossed the paintbrush in a wastebasket and followed her to the kitchen.

The dish of Rice Krispie Treats had already been cut into once, but she got out a couple of oversized squares for us and set them on paper towels.

“What, no fine china?” I teased.

She half-glared, half-smiled at me. “We only do that for the guests who haven’t been cut off by the Melroses.”

“Fair,” I said, picking up the treat and eating a bite. It was heavenly.

“Are you... doing okay?” she asked hesitantly.

I nodded, knowing she was referring to the called-off engagement. “I’ve had a few good leads on apartments. I’ll make it.”

She frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want us to set you up? I know Walter is a dud, but there’s this other guy in accounting—”

“Not interested.”

“You don’t even know him!” she argued.

“I know he’s in accounting.”

She giggled and licked some marshmallow off her fingertip. “True.”

My phone dinged, and I looked at the screen, seeing a new message from Cohen.

Cohen: Can I pick you up at eleven tomorrow? Can’t wait to see you and show you what I have planned. I think you’ll like it.

“You’re smiling!” Anthea accused. “Who is he?”

My cheeks warmed as I typed back a message. “No one.” I hadn’t even realized I’d been smiling. Or distracted for that long.

Birdie: That sounds great. Important question. Will food be involved?

Cohen: Of course. Four stars or better. See you then.

When I set my phone down and looked back at Anthea, her expression told me she didn’t believe my previous lie. Not one bit.

“So you just smile all goofy when your girlfriends text you?” Her mouth fell open. “Please tell me you’re not talking to Dax again. That guy is such a douche canoe.”

My eyebrows raised. “Douche canoe?”

“Well, now that you’re not dating, I can say what I really think of him.”

“And that would be?”

She shrugged, taking another bite of Rice Krispie. “That his eyes wandered a little too much for my liking. And he has a stupid laugh. And his art was derivative and trying too hard.”

Although it hurt to hear other people had noticed how wrong Dax was for me, the last part made me giggle. Dax hated when people said his work wasn’t purely original. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like him?”

“Would you have listened?” she asked.

I thought about it for a moment. “Probably not. But next time I date someone, will you let me know if you don’t like him?”

She held out her pinky. “I promise.”

With a smile, I linked my pinky with hers. And I made myself a promise that next time, I would listen.

27

---