Page 33 of Party Favors

She finally cut through the entire thing and brought half of the log into the living room, sitting on the couch next to me. She squeezed the dough like a tube of toothpaste and took a big bite.

After Vella had chewed and swallowed, she said, “He wanted us to get back together, which, as you know, I’m morally opposed to because he’s the actual worst. When I asked him why, he said he has to go out of town for a week and wanted me to take care of his cat.”

A pulse of unease began to throb at the base of my stomach. Now was not the time to tell her I was doing the same thing for Adrian. “Like, he wanted you to go over and feed it? Change the litter box?”

“No, he wanted me to stay over at his place so that she didn’t ‘feel lonely.’”

“Does he know that you’re—”

She didn’t let me finish. “Yes! He should know that I’m allergic to cats!” Her allergy was the only reason I didn’t currently have a menagerie of animals. “When I made the huge mistake of dating him, I had to take a Benadryl every day just to go over to his place and I was still miserable with my red eyes, stuffed-up nose, and scratchy skin. The fact that he can’t even remember the most basic of details about me is why I broke up with him in the first place.”

“I thought it was because you caught him cheating.”

She rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised she didn’t sprain them. “Obviously, that too. I just broke up with him again for conduct unbecoming a boyfriend.”

“I still can’t believe you left with him.”

“Am I perfect? No. But more importantly, am I trying to make better choices? Also no.”

I laughed and she devoured another chunk of cookie dough.

“How long was that?” I asked. “An hour? Is that a new record for your shortest relationship ever?”

“Possibly.” She nodded.

“I’m glad it’s over. I was worried that if you did start things up with him again, it would end up as a specialDatelineepisode where I’d have to tell the world that I saw this coming.”

“Enough about the train wreck that is my life. What happened with you and David?”

“His name is Max,” I reminded her.

“Oh, I’m aware. I said David meaning he looks like Michelangelo personally sculpted him.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you thought he was attractive.” She’d been so unlike herself when she’d met him.

“No argument from me. And he’s not even my type.”

“Gorgeous isn’t your type?” I asked skeptically.

“He seems too ... clean cut andnice,” she said with distaste before taking a quick bite.

“Yes, heaven forbid someone treats you well,” I teased.

“Nobody wants that,” she agreed.

I smiled at her. “You’re right, though. He was very nice.”

She waited a moment, chewing her cookie dough. With a mouthful of food, she said, “And?”

My smile got even bigger as I thought about him. “He walked me home because some guy at the bar was weird and creepy.”

“Look at you grinning like a fourteen-year-old girl who just met her favorite pop star.”

And here I was trying to downplay my attraction to him.

She went on, “I haven’t seen you this giddy about a boy since Lumpy.”

“Who?”

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