Page 80 of The Fadeaway
“Your scars are not that bad. In fact, I think they’ve lightened a lot the past few months,” Blair insists and pulls her into a hug. “You’re a badass Tinkerbell.”
We burst into laughter. Crying from laughing so hard.
“Why are we laughing, it’s not even that funny?” Vanessa asks between giggles.
Another hour and the conversation is back to boys. My fingers hover over Joel’s number in my phone. I write the texts out in my head alternating between funny, sexy, or just casual.
“Take my phone,” I plead with Blair and shove it in her direction. “I never understood drunk texting until now and I’m pretty sure I’m close to making a total ass of myself.”
Vanessa snatches it from Blair and her thumbs tap on the screen. “I’ve got this.”
“What are you saying?”
She giggles and turns the phone toward me.
Me: I want your P in my V.
“Oh my God, Vanessa.”
My phone beeps.
Joel: Be there in five.
My face warms and I press my palms to my cheeks.
“I’m effective, what can I say?” Vanessa boasts.
“Aww, I’m jealous,” Gabby says. “I want a boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Blair laughs. “I think I said that exact same thing when Wes and I started hanging out.”
“I can confirm that,” Vanessa offers.
Gabby flings her arm up, wine cup in hand, splashing the sticky sweet liquid into the air. “I ship you. All of you.”
“What does that mean?” I ask as I dab at the wine on my leggings.
“It means I support your relationships. I love how happy all of you are and I want you to go to your sexy boyfriends and get it on.”
“I thought we were having a slumber party?” Blair asks, but I can tell she’s all for the idea of going to Wes.
“I’m exhausted and tomorrow I need to go try and find a job.” She scrunches up her face but then smiles. “Besides now that I’m here we can hang out all the time.”
“I ship you,” I tell her, wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze hard. I haven’t had real girlfriends in a long time, and it feels so good.
She laughs. “That’s not how the saying works.”
* * *
Joel
Kitty is drunk. I assumed she was tipsy by the text message, but by the time I drop Vanessa off at Mario’s and get back to The White House with her and Blair, she’s alternating between fits of laughter and eye fucking me.
Blair pushes out of the backseat before I’ve even killed the engine. “Thanks for the ride, Joel. Night, Katrina.”
“Does your car have a name?” she asks as she runs a hand over the dash seductively.
