It says delivered. “Ugh.” Time is ticking, so I switch to Audrey.
Me: Auddie. Are you there?
Astrid’s message shows read. “Perfect.” I don’t give her time to respond. I sit the computer on the edge of my bed and type quickly.
Me: I need a favor.
Astrid: What’s up?
Me: I need you to call my phone.
Astrid: Where is it?
I giggle mischievously.
Me: It’s in Drake’s car. Call it. Please. Now.
I yank off my jeans and toss them in the dirty clothes basket. My bra joins it.
Audrey: Hi, friend!
Me: Never mind.
Audrey: That’s not nice.
Me: Love you. Will explain later.
Audrey: I don’t even want to know.
I roll my eyes, removing my hair from the elastic. It’s clumpy from the sweat so I run a brush through it and hope my curls from this morning held.
Astrid: I called. Now what?
Me: Call it again.
Astrid: Why?
“Now’s not the time, Astrid,” I grumble.
Me: We’re having a power struggle. I left my phone in his car, so he’ll have to bring it back to me. I’ll happen to look super hot when he gets here, and he won’t be able to help himself. Then I win, and we can stop this ridiculousness, and I can get some cock.
Astrid: GIANNA.
Me: I’d do this for you!
Astrid: I’m calling for the third time. I’m just … how do you come up with this stuff?
I run into the bathroom, grab a wet washcloth, and hit the hot spots. Brush my teeth. Mouthwash. Add a bit of red lipstick for the drama of it later, hopefully, and apply a bit of powder, thanks to all the sweat in the glass place. Then I race back to my bedroom.
Astrid: How many times do I call?
Astrid: I’m on number five.
Astrid: Are we hoping he answers?
Astrid: What if your battery goes dead?
Astrid: What if he’s listening to music and can’t hear it?
