Page 7 of Those Summer Nights (Sweet Cravings 2)

Less than an hour later, we were sitting on the couch, balancing plates precariously on our laps.

“What do you want to watch?” Kristen asked as she channel surfed.

Honestly, I didn’t want to watch anything. I liked enjoying my food after I cooked it. But if we had a show on, Kristen was less likely to badger me about my lifeguard. “Want to watch the next season of Project Runway?”

“Yaasss!” She blew me a kiss, Tim Gunn style, and pulled it up on Hulu in two seconds flat. She had definitely already queued it up and was just waiting for my okay.

I smiled and took a bite of my masterpiece. We had been making our way through all the old seasons of Project Runway since we moved in together. We’d both never seen the show before and now we were totally hooked. Especially on Swatch. A Swatch sighting when the contestants were shopping for fabric was a jump-up-and-down moment. And I didn’t even like dogs. If I ever lost my mind and decided to get a pet, it would probably be a Swatch dog. But clearly it wasn’t meant to be, because I didn’t even know what type of dog he was.

I shifted on the couch to get more comfortable and grimaced. Geez, who knew jellyfish bites stung so freaking much? It felt like I was doing an unconventional materials challenge on the show and got burned by a hot glue gun.

Kristen turned the volume down. “Okay…seriously, spill it. Clearly you got rammed and for some reason have decided not to tell me and I’m hurt.” She put her hands over her heart to show her pain, almost dropping her quiche on the floor in the process.

“Rammed?” I was trying my best to focus on the show instead of her sad face.

“You know.” She made a rude gesture of putting her index finger through an “O” shape she’d made with her other hand. “Boned. Laid. Stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Hanky panky. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.”

I laughed. “Gross, stop it.” I slapped both her hands.

“Tell me.”

“I promise I didn’t get stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“So no anal…”

“That’s not what getting stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey means.”

“Of course it is. Because you ram the stuffing up the turkey’s ass for all that extra flavor.”

Gross. “I meant I didn’t have sex period.” The thought of sex made me picture Aiden naked, trying to get me out of his bedroom so he could continue cheating on me. God I hated men. “I told you, no boys for me this summer. I’m focusing on me.”

Kristen had the audacity to pause the show right in the middle of a Tim Gunn critique.

“Hey, I was watching that.”

“Mila, I know you were hurt.” She put her feet up on the couch so she could turn toward me. “But you can’t just shut yourself off from love. And when did you say Aiden lost his mind? During spring break? That was like…in March. It’s been three months.”

“Three months is not that much time! I thought he was going to propose!”

“And we both know you would have said no.”

“That’s not…”

“He was not your person. He was an egotistical asshole. You would have said no. And even if you didn’t, you would have changed your mind before you walked down the aisle and ruined your whole life. You’re smarter than that. And you shouldn’t let someone as stupid as Aiden ruin your whole summer. You’re a junior. It’s your last real summer break. You deserve to enjoy it.”

Her words made me tear up. She was right. Why was I still letting Aiden dictate my happiness? Yup, Kristen was definitely my best friend. Before I could thank her for what she said, she started talking again.

“And the best way to enjoy this summer is by drinking sangria with your main squeeze and watching reruns of Project Runway!” She got up and quickly poured me a glass of sangria. “But getting rammed by aforementioned hot lifeguard would really be the cherry on top. I’m sure he’d make you forget all about Aiden.”

I laughed and took the glass from her. She wasn’t wrong. But nothing was going to happen with me and the lifeguard.

“So if you didn’t do the dirty deed, what the hell happened? You can barely move without looking like you’re going to keel over.”

“Jellyfish sting.”

“Oh ouch. Did you get someone to pee on you? That’s really supposed to help.”

I laughed. At least I wasn’t the only one whose mind automatically went there. “Apparently there’s a spray for it. So no pee necessary.” Thank God.

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