“You’re the one who kept going andcamewhile I was in there, like a fucking pervert—” she fires back.
My cock twitches in its boxers. “Oh, so you wanna talk about Bathroom Incident now, Mia? You want to have a real detailed discussion? You ready to talk about my dick? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”I’m sick. This is sick.
She freezes, collecting herself, a flush climbing up her neck. “No. We said we’d never discuss it again.”
I grunt.
She takes a deep breath. “Elias.” She places a soft hand over mine. “Please help me.”
Something in her voice makes me focus. I find myself mapping her face, the one I’ve known for twenty-nine years, the features I know as well as the back of my hand. I look at the flecks of darker blue in her ice-blue eyes, note the dark blonde eyelashes framing them. The smooth skin stretched over her perfect little nose. The tiny scar above her lip from a freak roller skating accident.
“Leo will be so weird about this,” I attempt.
This is the wrong thing to say. She is outraged.
“Fuck that, Elias,” she says, slamming both hands on the table, making me jump. “Fuck Leo. Leo has always been such a judgmental dick about my life.”
“Well, heisyour older brother,” I try, wincing.
“AndI’ve always been second best to him. With my parents. With my family. Withyou,” she hisses. “Can’t you be on my fucking side for once?”
I look at her. Her eyes are shining, face pink.
A memory pops into my head. Mia at eight, maybe ten years old, adorable with a crown of metal headgear. Mia’s eyes red and swollen from being bullied at school. Mia’s laugh when I tell her we can be robots together, and then we can chomp on all of our enemies with our metal teeth.
Mia turned out to be a small little thing once she reached high school, but she always kept the roundness in her face. I notice now that she’s lost that some time in the last few years, making her face more angular, sharper. This makes me want to fold her up and put her in my pocket.
I realize with dismay that I’m going to say yes.
I mash my palms into my eye sockets. This is a mistake. “Fine.”
She squeals, her tiny body jumping up and down in our tiny kitchen. “Yes! Thank you!” She does an awful fist pump humping routine. “I’m gonna get so laid!” She does a twirl before sitting back in the chair and shoving her phone in my hands. “So, what should I say to him?”
I place the phone on the table. “Meems… I need to wake up first. Let me finish my coffee and hop in the shower.”
“Okay, okay, fine. He can wait for a few minutes. What are you doing today? Want to hang out? Can we start today?”
I stand up, screeching the chair on the tile of our kitchen. “Just… give me a minute.”
I stomp to the bathroom, turn the shower to ice cold, and stand under it for much longer than I need to.
FOUR
Mia
We decideto start with aHey. This is Mia. We met at the bar in Wildwood. I hit send, then take a huge bite of blueberry pancake. We’re eating breakfast at the tiny corner place by our apartment.
“That’s it?” I ask, with a mouth full of pancake. “No other details? Like ‘I’m back in town’ or ‘let’s hang out’? Should I ask any questions?”
“This is not the time to ask him for his SAT scores, Mia,” Elias replies, visibly frustrated, stabbing at his omelet with his fork. “You want to keep it short and sweet. Don’t sound too desperate. Build tension.”
I’m honestly pretty surprised he agreed to help me, but I think it makes total sense. I can’t fucking talk to men, and Elias is an unfortunate woman-eater. I want to be a man-eater. I want to be the woman version of Elias, so it only makes sense to get coached by the best. And I meant what I said earlier. I do trust him. It’s impossible not to. I’ve known him my whole life. I’m pretty sure he was there when my parents brought my newborn-self home from the hospital, for fuck’s sake. Elias (and Leo) beat up my first boyfriend when I found out he was cheating on me with Rebecca Linden. I was thirteen. It’s one of my fondest memories. Oh, and I’ve seen his dick, which has to count for something.
“Obviously not questions like that, but how about like ‘wyd?’ or ‘wanna hang?’ or ‘u up?’ or something like that,” I ask, genuinely curious.
“We aren’t twenty-two-years old anymore, Meems.”
“Okay, then how about like ‘wanna grab a drink’ or something?—”
