Page 7 of Confessions of a High School Guidance Counselor

I tried not to wonder if I was the problem. If I was too much for him.

If any of my students at school said something like that, I would say they’re never too much for someone who can’t get enough of them. I’m pretty sure I read that on Pinterest, but it was still true.

“Look.” Mara leaned forward, her bun falling forward as well. “I have a guest bedroom. I have a two-car garage with only one car. You can keep your things in the garage until you find a place of your own.” She smiled, tilting her head to the side. “You know it was fun living with me in LA.”

“True,” I agreed, finding a smile for the first time all day. “I wish we could go back there and I could enjoy grad school more instead of wasting all that time on Dax.”

She shook her head sadly, taking another sip. “Someday, you’ll see the lesson in the mess.”

“I appreciate the advice,” I said with a sardonic smile, “but I think your guest bed and half your garage are more than enough.”

Instead of arguing, she hit my arm and took another drink of wine. I did the same.

“You know,” she said, “why wait?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why hang out in this house when you could move in with me and get ready for your new life? Plus, an eviction on your record won’t look good when you’re trying to find your next place.”

I looked toward the ceiling. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

She laughed and rubbed my arm. “That’s how all the best decisions are made.”

I stood from the floor. “Let’s pack?”

“Save the packing for this weekend,” she said, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “I have a different idea.” She stood up and went to my bedroom, then to the closet. “Don’t you have anything not-professional in here? It’s about as neutral as it gets!”

I shook my head, leaning against the door frame. “I work at a private school, Mara. It doesn’t exactly leave a lot of room for personal expression.”

Her face lit up as she reached the back of my closet and pulled out a sexy sequin dress from our trip to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday.

“Look at this!” She held it out to me. “I bet you still fit in it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t keep it to wear again.” I reached for the fabric, feeling the rough outside. I’m pretty sure it chafed my inner arms raw. “I kept it for the memories.”

“Well, you’re making new ones tonight,” Mara argued, draining the rest of her wine.

“Like the memory of pathetically sleeping at my best friend’s house until I can scrounge up a crappy studio apartment somewhere?”

She shook her head. “Like the memory of some hot guy’s cock.”

My cheeks instantly heated. Mara was always talking like that. “Just because you write smutty romance novels doesn’t mean I’m going to be your next heroine.”

Lifting her eyebrows, she said, “Try me. I bet by this time next year, you’ll already be in love with Mr. Right and wondering why you ever wasted time or tears on that loser Dax. A night at the bar is the perfect jumping off point.”

“I’ll pass.” I set the dress on a suitcase. “I’m already pathetic enough. I don’t need to show up to school hungoverandheartbroken.”

“Like anyone will notice. Teenagers are too hung up on their own problems to care.”

She had a point.

“And a rebound will help you feel better. No one’s saying you have to date whoever it is.”

“Whoever it is,” I echoed. “Great start to the night.”

She took both of my hands in hers, looking in my eyes. “Birdie. You have been dating or engaged for the last two years. One man. One penis. That’s too long to be with one penis.”

“I was about to marry the guy!” I protested.

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