“This is Elle.”
His eyes fly back to her. “Elle, Allison.”
Elle turns to Andrew, smile frozen in place, hiding fangs. “Since Andrew conveniently left out a word,” she says,
aiming her hostile smile at me.
“Hi, I’m Elle.
“His girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
Cool, cool.
The one fucking time I don’t dip out early,
New York throws up a middle finger.
And I’m supposed to smile back
as if I didn’t feel that land in my gut.
My gaze falls to the floor.
Andrew freezes next to me,
a stutter in his breath,
the word wiping the expression off his face.
Then his head swings to me,fast.
“She’s—nah. Nah, no fuckin’ way.”
A single laugh leaves him, then a full-body no.
“That’s not what this is, aight?”
His hand swipes the air
as if he can erase the comment.
“She’s not my girl.”
More direct and desperate now.
“I’m just fucking her.”
The words crash into the floor.
Like—sheeeeeeeeew… boom!
Elle’s jaw drops.
Andrew hangs his head.
I’m holding back a smile.
