Page 56 of Drawn Together
I groan and slip out of the tub, and Fletcher holds out the one towel here for me before turning his face to the city in the distance, so he won’t have to see me get dressed as well.
My ham and pineapple, a meat lovers, and a regular cheese—Lennon apparently hates toppings—are happily sitting next to Fletcher’s monstrosity. A smorgasbord of prosciutto, fig jam, goat cheese, and fresh arugula, covered in a hot honey sauce.
I can feel my teeth shriveling up at the thought. Goat cheese on a pizza should be illegal.
Fletcher reaches past me and sets a slice of his pizza on a plate before holding it out for me. “At least try it.”
I look up at him, silently. He looks back at me, silently. His eyes scream try it and mine holler you freak. In the end, it’s the sad, disappointed frown of his that makes me sigh and grab the slice from him. It tastes exactly how it looks. Healthy, spicy, and very wrong. I would like to spit it into a napkin at my earliest convenience.
“What do you think?”
“Are you going to be mad at me if I don’t like it?”
“No Flora, I won’t be mad at you.”
“Then, I hate it.”
He laughs so loud it shakes my stomach all around. “You do not.”
“I really do.” I smile.
“Well, your favorite restaurant is Backside.”
“So?” I have recently graduated from the pancakes to the burger, and I cannot believe what a hidden gem that place is.
“So, you have questionable taste.”
“Har. Har. Har.” My eyes narrow, and I take my excellent taste in food over to the living room where Lennon sits by the window. I scoot around her and plop down in the closest chair so we can both have a perfect view of the almost empty street.
“Have you heard anything about how much longer it’ll be?” I would check with anyone in the building if I had a single phone number for my neighbors. I did, however, acquire an email from Mister Trolani on the ninth floor, but it turns out he was just looking for a part time plant consultant, and I must have looked to fit the bill. Once I told him that the closest thing I have to a green thumb would be if I physically painted it, he did not laugh, just took the slip of paper right out of my hands and backed down the shadowy corridor.
“No, but it’s almost nine-thirty, so I assume no one's spending the night in there.”
“Shoot. Should I look for an Airbnb or a hotel?”
It’s not exactly an expense I can afford right now, but I’d prefer it over the gas leak.
Lennon squints. “No.”
“You’re sleeping over there?”
“I’m sleeping here, Flora.”
“Oh.” Right. Yes. She is a grown woman and sleeping at a man's house is not a big deal when she does so half the time anyway.
“You are, too. You know that, right? None of us, Fletcher especially, would make you go get a hotel when there is a free spot here.”
At my befuddled look, Lennon cracks a smile. “We could even see if Noah and Margot want to come? It’ll be fun. Like a high school sleepover, but with wine and pizza and trashy coming-of-age movies.” Her head tilts, gaze far off. “Well, actually, that sounds just like all my high school sleepovers.”
How mortifying would it be if I were to slip out the truth right now? That even though I have had a best friend who knew me so well that he could pinpoint the moment I was about to start my period before I could, I have somehow never had a sleepover. I would have had to have girlfriends to do that sort of thing. Austin was allowed to stay over late when our parents hung out—we would slip off to our rooms and watch scary movies in the dark with sneaky touches under furled blankets—but come ten o'clock, they had to head right across the street to their own house. Or vice versa, if we were over there.
The thing about Austin and I is that we never felt like we had to have other friends. For so long, we were enough for each other. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on all the fun girls’ nights in high school, because I had my own person that was just mine. After all, what are ten random, mediocre friends compared to the one and only best person in your life? Nothing, it turns out. On either end.
And still, I look at this tiny group of people that all fit so perfectly to each other's lives who somehow want me here, and I can’t help but walk right into that open door.
So, I smile. “That sounds really nice.”
I honestly can’t imagine anyone else I would want to have my first sleepover with.
