“Men like phallic things,” the woman says.
I blink. “I like breasts.”
Both women blink.
“Well, no man has turned buildings that look into breasts.”
“The Capitol has a nice breast-shaped top,” I counter.
The women’s mouths drop open.
“I know some buildings in DC,” I mumble.
The women look at me with distaste, and I’m not sure that I blame them.
“You brought up architectural genitalia first. Hi, I’m Axel.”
“Juliette.” She gestures toward her blonde companion. “And this is Nora.”
“What brings you to New York?” I ask.
“Work.”
“Same.”
They don’t ask me what I do for work, and I don’t volunteer it.
I remind myself that I don’t want to knock on Enzo’s door and put my laptop on his bed so we can both curl up to watch theLord of the Ringsspin-off together.
In college he used to climb onto my long single bed, our broad shoulders touching, as we watched and rewatched movies together. Other students in our dorm would tease us, and Enzo would go pink, but it made sense to have the laptop near us just to appreciate the special effects.
I spent so much time back then focusing on the future and when we would both join the NHL, but those were happier times.
Lately, I feel like I’m pretending to be happy and upbeat. Enzo could probably tell.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to hang out with me anymore, maybe that’s why he got so annoyed when I kept on pressing him and texting and calling to ask him what I did wrong, and that I didn’t get the point that he wanted nothing more to do with me until he practically attacked me on the ice.
I shift my position in the armchair, even though it’s super comfortable, as if that can usher away the melancholy wrapping around me.
“Men are terrible,” Nora announces. I blink. She’s been talking this whole time.
“Are we?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” Juliette says. “If only I were a lesbian.”
“You want to be a lesbian?”
“What woman doesn’t?” Nora says, and Juliette smirks in agreement.
Okay, this conversation got way more interesting.
“Why do you want to be lesbians?”
“We could be together.” Nora shoots me a look like I’m dumb, which face it, maybe I am.
“It would be so convenient,” Juliette says. “One bed when we travel. We could live together. We already love spending our time together.”
“But why don’t you do that?” I ask.
