Page 46 of When Stars Collide
“Did you get my hoodie back?”
“She said she would return it to you when you text her back.”
“Why did you give her the blouse back, then?”
“Because I’m an adult, Jo.”
“Well, life certainly is a bitch today.” Jo lobbed my pillow at me, which I deflected with my arm.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Madison seems nice enough. She only showed me a hint of crazy, far less than the national average.”
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not looking for anything right now. And neither was she, or so I thought.” She took a swig from the bottle. “One-night stands are rarely ever meant to be long-term commitments.”
I thought back to the first time Peter and I slept together. We’d never discussed what would happen afterwards, it just worked out as naturally as the sun rises and sets.
“Do you want to go out?”
“Excuse me?”
“Out. Like to a bar. This cheap beer isn’t quite doing this day the justice it deserves.”
I’d only been out with Jo one other time, shortly after she moved into my apartment after answering my ad for a roommate. Out of the dozen or so who’d applied, she’d pretty much been the only one who I was certain I wouldn’t have to worry about murdering me in my sleep—if that tells you anything about the types of applicants I received. After moving in, Jo decided it would be a good idea to get to know each other better and insisted that a bar setting was the best possible place for that to happen. At the end of the night, I’d learned exactly two things about Jo: she could out drink most of the men I knew, and she could Exorcist-style projectile vomit.
“Come on. I promise I won’t drink … a lot.”
“Famous last words, Linda Blair.”
Jo stuck out her bottom lip and looked at me with eyes as big as saucers. Back in the day, when she was a cute kid, I’d wager that look had gotten her just about anything she’d wanted.
“Uh, fine,” I relented, much to Jo’s delight. “But if you hurl on a complete stranger again, I’m not going to stick around to bail you out.”
“It’s a deal.”
About six months ago, I bought a dress on a whim with the thought that I would break it out for a special occasion sometime during the summer. Summer had come and gone, and the tags remained on my cherry red sheath dress. Well, I suppose it was time to pop this cherry. I pulled the dress over my head, admiring how it hugged every curve of my body, actually making me look like I had a shape. Most of the other dresses I owned said, “Screw it,” and hung on me like a curtain from a rod.
Just wait until Peter sees me in this.
At that moment, my phone rang from where it rested on my bed. Peering at the screen, I smiled when I saw it was him.
“I was just thinking about you,” I answered.
“Oh. How so?” Peter asked.
“I’m getting ready to go out with Jo tonight, and I’m wearing this dress I think you just may be able to appreciate.”
“You’re going out with Jo right now?” he asked, more subdued than normal.
“Yeah, she’s had a day, and all but begged me to come with her, but I can talk.”
“No, no, have fun. We can talk when you get home.”
“Is everything okay? You don’t sound like you. It’s like someone poked you with a pin and you’re beginning to slowly deflate.”
“I’m okay, Mena. I just … we can talk later.”
“Look, Peter, if you don’t tell me, I’ll only worry.”
“I’m not going to be able to come to New York next week.”
