Not Like the Movies - Kerry Winfrey Page 0,71

front door. I toss back another Jell-O shot, then hear her scream from the living room.

“What’s wrong?” I run in after her, only to find her doubled over in laughter, pointing toward shirtless Drew in the corner.

“He scared me,” she wheezes. “I thought we had a dirty, buff intruder hiding behind the palm frond.”

I snort a laugh, then answer the door and pay for the pizza.

“Whoa,” Annie says as I place three large pizzas on the coffee table. “That is more pizza than we can eat.”

“It’s your bachelorette party!” I say with force. “You can’t drink and you wouldn’t let me take you to a campy, tongue-in-cheek all-male revue, but damn it, we’re gonna get buckwild one way or another. I got extra cheese on these babies.”

Annie leans forward as I open one of the pizza boxes. “You really did go all out.”

We eat as much pizza as we humanly can while watching Annie’s choice of films (a Hugh Grant retrospective: Four Weddings and a Funeral, followed by Music and Lyrics, skipping Notting Hill because for some reason Annie doesn’t want to watch a movie where a regular person hooks up with a celebrity).

After we put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Don to eat later, I lean back on the couch, full and content. “You know who I like?”

Annie looks at me, hands on her stomach. “Who?”

“That Hugh Grant. What a charmer.”

“A bold opinion. Oh geez. I ate way too much.”

“Look at you, getting into the spirit of hedonism. Do you want a Sprite?”

Annie shrugs. “Why not? It’s my bachelorette party.”

She gets up to get herself a drink but I wave her back down. “Stay on your pregnant butt. I’ll get your drink.”

“Again, I’m glad you’re not a doctor. The baby’s not in my butt.”

“Not yet.” I point at her and head to the kitchen.

“Not ever,” I hear her say with confusion as I pour her Sprite into a penis goblet I ordered online. As I stick the bottle back in the fridge, my phone vibrates, and I look down to see a text from Nick. Oh.

Feeling better?

That’s it. Just a question. No banter, nothing romantic, no suggestive emojis. This is normal.

Much better. In fact, I felt well enough to make sexually suggestive fruit skewers, I respond, then text him a picture.

This is for Annie’s bachelorette, I add in a separate text.

Don’t act like this isn’t what you’d be doing on a typical Friday night, Nick texts back.

“What’s this about?”

I look up to see Annie standing on the other side of the island, looking at me expectantly.

“What’s what about?” I ask, dropping my phone in a way that isn’t suspicious at all.

“. . . is that a penis goblet?” she asks slowly.

I hand it to her and she takes an uncertain sip. Apparently satisfied with the experience of drinking out of a penis, she continues.

“That smile. Does Mikey Danger make you smile like that? If so, I regret all the uncharitable things I said and thought about him.”

When I don’t say anything, a grin makes its way slowly across Annie’s face. “Ohhhhhhh.”

“Oh what?” I ask, barely suppressing an eye roll.

She leans over the island. “It was . . . Nick.”

“So what if it was Nick?” I grumble.

“Well, I promised I wouldn’t say anything.” Annie takes another sip. “And I’m nothing if not a superb promise-keeper, so I’ll take this and go into the other room and—”

“We slept in the same bed, okay?” I blurt out, then clamp my hand over my mouth.

Annie gasps and jumps in the air, sending her penis antennae bobbing and sloshing Sprite out of the penis goblet. “Yes! I’ll clean that up later. But yes! I knew something was up! I mean, more up than usual. You guys finally did it.”

I laugh, my insides feeling as bubbly as the Sprite that’s currently forming a sticky puddle on the floor.

“We didn’t do it, and what are you, twelve? I love you so much.”

Annie claps her hands together, then stops. “Wait, what do you mean you didn’t do it? You said you slept together.”

I sigh and start at the beginning, explaining the whole thing at the hotel as Annie stares at me with rapt eyes, occasionally sucking in a breath or whispering, “Yes!” And then I get to Nick making me soup and hot toddies, and Annie’s gleeful reaction reminds me why we’re best friends. This is why I tell her things—because her enthusiasm makes me feel more excited about my own

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