Page 69 of Just Friends Forever
Stevie shrugs. “Guess we’ll see.”
I wish I could wear a metaphorical blindfold because I really, really don’t want to see.
* * *
I waveat Evelyn as she hops on the bus to head back to work. She smiles at me, then disappears through the folding doors.
I told her I’d take her back to work myself, but since I got a call right then from Rocco, which lasted way too long despite my gentle efforts to end it, she insisted on taking the bus.
I really like her. The apartment we just saw was a disappointment to both of us—it’s amazing how photography can make a dodgy place look good—but she took it in stride. She’s hopeful we’ll find the perfect place, and I’m determined to make that happen.
As for Rocco, he wants a compilation of possible properties by five tonight, comparing their pros and cons. Given the traffic I’ll be encountering on the way home, I’ll have to hop on it the minute I pull in the driveway.
That’s fine, though. This is all part of the dream. I calculated the lowest estimate of commission I’ll receive from his purchase, and I almost fainted. Maybe I’m deluded, but the thought that important people might come to know of me on my own merits instead of Austin’s is looking more likely with this windfall.
I pull onto my street and note that the number of paparazzi has dwindled a little bit. Maybe they’re losing interest. It makes sense. So many celebrity lives to invade, so little time.
Rather than addressing the latest rumors, Stevie and I have left them alone. There’s bound to be some other relationship scandal amongst the upper-crust of Hollywood society that will pull the focus from us soon. I’m counting on it.
Just as I pull in the driveway, I get a text.
Tori
Are you cool if I set Stevie up with a friend?
I type “No” and immediately erase it. This feels like a trap. This is probably Tori trying to get me to admit my feelings for Stevie. Well, she’s barking up the wrong tree.
Troy
Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?
Tori
Two words: buttered toast.
Mentions of my wisdom teeth video disappeared during Stevie’s marriage to Curtis, but they’re back in full force now, apparently.
Troy
*eye roll emoji*
I head inside, not waiting for a reply. If I dwell too much on all this stuff, it starts bringing me down, and I’m on the up and up.
“Troy? Is that you?” Stevie’s voice calls from downstairs.
“Yeah!” I call back, walking to her door and waiting for her response.
“I need your help!”
I’m down the stairs in two seconds flat. “Where are you?” She doesn’t sound like she’s in distress, but it would be like Stevie to play things down even if she were.
“The bathroom,” she calls back.
I skid around the corner, into the hallway, and stop in front of the bathroom door.
It’s open, and my eyes scan the scene: the box next to the sink, the dark streaks of an undetermined substance on the counter, the paused YouTube video on her phone, the scissors.
Stevie’s staring in the mirror with a concentrated expression, looking like a wet dog. A cute wet dog, but a wet dog nonetheless.
