Well This Sucks - CoraLee June Page 0,92

ordering that pizza. I’m starting to get ‘hangry.’”

This immediately sparked a heated debate about whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not. Yaz was firmly in the pro-pineapple camp, while Drew and Ryan argued so passionately against it I thought a fight might break out.

“Why not just get two pizzas?” I asked. All three of them turned to glare at me.

“Oh, that’s so cute,” Ryan said.

Cute? Did he seriously just call me cute?

“That’s a lovely suggestion, darling. But that’s not how this works,” Yaz told me in the same voice you would use to explain colors to a toddler.

“It’s kind of a tradition. We either make new and valid points until someone caves, or we argue until we are so hungry, we don’t care if the pineapple is there or not,” Drew explained, as if this were a perfectly reasonable way to order pizza.

They immediately went back to yelling over each other. As I watched Drew bickering about pizza toppings, I could feel her happiness. Being here in her apartment, with people she loved, doing something so trivial but so familiar. I was happy I was able to give that to her.

Stop thinking lovey dovey thoughts at me. I’m trying to focus on this debate, she thought at me, a twinkle in her eye.

“Never,” I whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

Drew

“You can’t wear that,” Betty said. She was sitting on the edge of my bed with her slender legs crossed. The fur coat she wore looked expensive and out of place compared to my frumpy pajamas. I wasn’t exactly sure why I invited her over, but the woman had grown on me…and I needed fashion advice. Betty did have style.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it’s last season and clashes with your complexion,” she replied while inspecting her nails.

Okay. Inviting Bitchy Betty over was a mistake.

“I already have a dress for you to wear. I sent it to the dry cleaner because I wore it on a date with Rocky, and it smelled like sex.”

My brows raised. “You and Rocky?”

“Don’t look so surprised, child. He’s technically older than me, but he doesn’t look it. He appreciates my wise perceptions of the world. Plus, there is something to be said about experience. Did you know natural borns stop aging when they hit thirty? I swear, seeing women crying about hitting thirty pisses me off. Thirties are the prime of your life!” She wiggled on the mattress and squeezed her eyes shut. “And let me tell you. Thirty-year-old men are virile, and they know what they’re doing, honey.”

“Get it, Betty,” I said with a smirk.

“I already got it, honey,” she replied while licking her lips. “I’m pissed he has to work tonight. Coven dinners are such a drag. For being a superpowered species, you’d think they’d get more creative. I was hoping for at least an orgy, not some Harvard graduates dancing naked and petitioning me to change them while I sucked from their least scandalous vein. I mean seriously, I don’t want to talk about their research while I’m eating.”

I sighed while picking up a pair of silver pumps I wore to a divorce party once. “Seems everyone wants to be a vampire, huh? I found out that my boss is a fang chaser. She fired me over it.”

“Bitch. I can’t blame her for wanting it though. It’s nice being immortal. But a little bit of fanfare and theater would make the entire experience more enjoyable,” Betty complained. “Anyhoo, your dress is crimson red. Gorgeous. And those heels you’re clutching will look great with it.”

“How should I do my makeup?”

“You really are useless, aren’t you?” Betty sighed. “Sit. I’ll do it. We have time before your dress gets here anyway.”

I sat in the chair at the small vanity in my room. I didn’t really have a ton of makeup, but I loved the look of the small vintage white desk and mirror combo. I felt like a movie star, and whenever I took the time to sit and apply one of the three eyeshadows I owned, I liked to pretend I was a famous YouTube guru and narrate my makeup routine.

“You know you use the wrong type of foundation for your face, right?”

Bite me.

“Obviously, if I had known it was wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten it,” I snapped. Realizing that Betty was literally messing with my face and that came out a little harsher than I meant, I added, “What would the right stuff be so I can get it?”

“Your skin is naturally