you don’t me. You should see yourself. He’s dragging you down.”
I’m thankful when the waiter arrives with our drinks. I grab my whiskey and take a long sip, letting the fire chase away the uncertainty inside of me.
“You should be with a man who builds you up. Someone who makes you laugh, smile, and who doesn’t make you cry.”
“You date guys who upset you all the time.”
She smiles sadly. “Exactly. I know what you’re feeling.”
“No you don’t. Because if you did you’d know how much I want him and even if we do part ways in a month I’ll probably spend the rest of my life thinking about him. I want him. I want you to respect that.”
“Do you hear yourself? If you part ways in a month? Why is it up to him whether you get what you want?”
She has a point. I take a deeper swallow.
“What if? What if in a month you find out he’s only using you for sex, or he doesn’t want you, or some other inane reason he comes up with? You gave him a lot. What has he given you?”
I’m the first girl he’s wanted since Willow. That’s something. “These aren’t thoughts I haven’t had before.”
“Well?” she presses.
“He’s given me things I never even knew I was missing. He makes me feel like everything I’m doing right now matters. Nothing I ever do matters. Even at the end of this month I’ll have done more with him than with any other guy. When’s the last time I did anything that mattered?”
She doesn’t have an answer. She sips her beer and stares down at her menu.
Becca: one million.
Raina: one.
That single victory feels like all of hers. “When’s the last time I took a chance on anything?”
Nothing.
“When’s the last time I wanted something and went for it?”
Silence from her end.
I relish in my victory. “Be nice to him. Give him a try. He’s not who you think he is.”
“We’ll see,” she mutters.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I suggest. “Like our other roommate.”
“Yeah, about him. What’s he like?”
“James is great.” I smile warmly. “He’s deaf, and though I think he gets treated differently, I don’t really understand why. He’s sweet, gentle, and cute. You’ll like him. I guess he and Kent have been friends for a long time.”
“Cute?” Her eyes light up. “Is he like Kent?”
“No.” I laugh at her sigh of relief. “He’s nothing like him.”
“Things are looking up.” She smiles and takes a sip of beer as our waiter comes to take out order. When he’s gone she stares at his backside. “Hot, right, sis?”
“Down, Becca. You’d rip him apart and swallow the pieces. You remember that one boyfriend you had. Garth? Didn’t he cry when you broke up with him?”
“Pansy ass cried during sex too. Every time he had an orgasm I had to grab a box of tissues.”
I laugh the only way Becca can make me laugh. Hard and deep. “I wonder what happened to him. I liked him. He was more the type of guy I want you to be with.”
“A crier? I don’t want a crier. I want a screamer.” She winks. “You’re with a screamer, aren’t you, sis?”
“I think I might be the screamer.”
She tosses her head back and laughs, catching the attention of every male in the building. “That’s my girl. Scream your face off.”
Thankfully for the rest of lunch our conversation revolves around teasing and the past. We talk only of things that don’t remind us of right now.
“Give me your keys. You’re buzzed.”
“No argument there,” I relent, recalling the second whiskey I had.
I stand there, dancing to nothing in the parking lot. I smack her ass, skipping in a tight circle. I had too much to drink and I can’t remember what I was crying about, so I guess it worked.
She eyes me. “Dweeb.”
In my car she turns the radio on. We sing along, getting the words wrong and making them up. I give her directions in the middle of botching the lyrics to a Pink song. When we get home she and I struggle to carry up her luggage. Twice we drop it and burst into a fit of giggles, tugging it all the way back up the stairs. When we get to the top Kent opens the door.
My mouth dries up when I see him. He’s dressed in a pair of snug jeans and a gray button up shirt. His hair is styled and he smells so good my mouth is no longer dry