“That is so not true,” Astrid says.
“If you’re a dud, what’s that make me?” I ask, pulling her into a quick hug. “You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. You have a literal doctorate. There’s never a moment when you don’t know the right thing to say, you know what fork to use in fancy restaurants, and there’s not a person on earth who could say a bad thing about you.”
She pulls away, running her fingers beneath her eyes. “You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”
“True,” I say. “But that doesn’t make it a lie.”
“I don’t know anything, really,” she says. “Sure, I know what fork to use. Good for me. I don’t know how to talk to men. I can’t flirt. I’ve had sex with one guy, and I have no idea how to give a blow job—and there’s no way to fix any of it.”
“I’ll set you up with some porn, and that’ll fix the blow job issue.” I grin as her jaw drops to her lap. “I’m teasing you. Don’t look so horrified.”
“See? I’ve never watched porn. The thought of watching two people have sex makes me so nervous. It feels … illegal.”
“Well, it’s not. In this state, at least. And it can be so hot to watch people get it on. It’s a fetish for some. I was at this party once and?—”
“Before you start watching porn with Gianna, really think about this, Auddie,” Astrid says, side-eyeing me. “You don’t want to change who you are to try to attract a guy.”
I point at Astrid. “You just missed out on a great story.”
“I have no doubt,” she says, grinning.
“But she’s right,” I say, turning to our friend. “If you want to try new things because you’re interested, then I’ve got you. But there’s nothing wrong with you the way you are, and there’s nothing wrong with embracing that. If a guy doesn’t want you like this, fuck him—literally or figuratively. It’s up to you.”
Audrey gives me a sheepish smile. “Anyway, is there any news about the hall tree?”
I hate leaving this conversation the way it stands. Audrey losing her self-confidence because of some asshole from Boston is asinine, and I want to be sure she understands that. But this is the most she’s opened up to Astrid and me about this, and I don’t want to push.
Well, I want to push, but I won’t. We’ll go at her pace, even if it’s slow as molasses.
I groan. “Coat Tree Woman has issues. She messages me four or five times a day. I finally quit opening them, but I think that makes her even madder because the messages came in faster after that.”
Astrid’s head whips to the side, her cheeks pinking immediately. “Don’t you dare come in front of this phone. I’m talking to Auddie and Gianna.”
“Hi, Gray,” Audrey calls out.
“Hey.”
“Bring our friend back, asshole,” I say.
“She’s mine now,” Gray says. “Deal with it.”
I laugh. “Keep talking shit. I still have my Taser, you know.”
“You and that fucking Taser.” He chuckles.
“I gotta go,” Astrid says, giggling. “Keep me posted on the Drake situation, Gianna. Love you, Audrey. Call me anytime.”
We say our goodbyes before she disappears from Audrey’s phone screen.
The house grows quiet. Audrey leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes. I want to be pissed at Dipshit—Iampissed at Dipshit—but I doubt he knows that he broke Audrey’s heart. I hope not, anyway. Because I can’t imagine anyone hurting this girl, destroying her self-esteem, and being okay with it.
And Ireallydon’t want to go to prison.
I consider turning on my phone but decide against it. Even though I’m dying to know if Drake has texted me, I want to wrap my head around this situation before I respond.
“Date me for six weeks. We can document it here for your fans. It’ll help your ratings if nothing else. You can think of it as an experiment to make you a better podcaster.”
“You want to fake date me to get our ratings up?”
