Page 16 of Pick One
“John?” I called into the echoing hallway. “If you forgot the mail, just leave it. I need to—”
Belatedly, I looked down at my phone.
JOHNNY:Hey. Congrats on your big news. I’m not feeling like great company tonight, so we’ll celebrate soon, okay? Have a great evening with John.
What in the fucking fucksticks?
A great evening withJohn?
Also, since when did either of us care about whether we were great company or not? John had gotten me Boston Cream Pie ice cream and deleted the Grindr app in solidarity with me back in June after a particularly horrible date. I’d made him chicken soup and brought him cold compresses when he was sick back in April, because he’d been so miserably feverish that nothing in the apartment had felt like the right temperature.
We were not “company” friends.
Also-also, he was acting like he knew what my big news was when he couldn’t possibly, becauseIhadn’t officially known about it until five minutes ago, and I hadn’t told anyone the details ahead of time, because I’d wanted John to be the first to know.
“John?” I yelled, louder now, leaning over the railing so I could see down to the lobby. “What the heck is—”
But I heard the distant sound of the outside door clicking as John left the building.
“Teagan? What’s going on, boo?”
Our across-the-hall neighbor, Monica, stood in her doorway wearing pajamas and carrying something that looked suspiciously like a margarita in her hand.
“It’s John. He’s acting bizarre all of a sudden. I wanted to talk to him—”
“About your big news, right.” Monica nodded. She winced sympathetically. “He didn’t take it well when you told him? Did he… did he cry?”
“What? Why would he cry?” I shook my head. “I didn’t even get to talk to him. I was on a Zoom, and when I finished, he was gone. Then he sends me this.” I gestured with my cell phone, and Monica stepped into the hall to read it over my shoulder.
“Is that Teagan?” a voice called from inside Monica’s apartment. My friend Fern appeared a second later, also in pajamas and holding a drink.
“Fern?” I blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“A little something I’m calling Margaritas and Mischief—” Monica began.
Fern interrupted her. “Bupbupbup.Hey. We’ll ask the questions.” The teal-dipped ends of her dark hair bounced as she pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’d best get in here and explain yourself, young man.”
“What?” I asked, bewildered.
Monica took my phone and handed it to Fern, who scanned it quickly.
“What does John mean, ‘enjoy your night with John’?” she asked.
“John means, you know,John.” Monica widened her eyes significantly. “NotJohn-John, butOther-John. The one Teagan went out with last night.”
“And you’re seeingOther-John two nights in a row? Teagan, really.” Fern shook her head disappointedly. “What aboutJohn-John? Have you considered his feelings at all?”
Wait, what the hell was going on?
And how was this somehow my fault?
The word “John” had been repeated so much it was starting to lose all meaning.
“I’m not seeing John tonight! I was supposed to have plans withmyJohn.” My cheeks went hot. “I mean, myroommateJohn. We were going to watchKnightfall, but then I told him I had news and said I wanted to postpone Netflix Night so we could go out and celebrate my news instead, and…” I shook my head again. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
Fern and Monica exchanged a look. “Come in, honey,” Monica said, gesturing me toward her apartment. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“Give me back my phone,” I told Fern once we’d gotten inside. “I’m going to text my…roommate…and ask him what the fuck.”
