What kind of emergency?
Liv
Anything, it can be as dramatic as you like. If you loved drama at school, now is your time to shine, honey. Just please, hurry before I die of boredom.
Jay
Okay but like level one or ten?
Liv
Ten, I want out.
Jay
If you put me on speaker, I’ll cry and everything.
I snort under my breath.
The waitress saunters off with our orders, of which I am oblivious, and I make sure Brad thinks I’m listening to him, and when he’s mid-story about his “networking circle,” whatever the fuck that is, my phone lights up on the table. I don’t even try to hide my relief.
“Sorry,” I say, picking it up before he can finish his sentence. “I need to take this—it’s my roommate.”
“Everything okay, sweetheart?”
I force a polite smile at the generic nickname while simultaneously swallowing vomit. On second thought, I’d probably throw up on his shoes to end the date faster than swallow it. I have nothing against nicknames, but at least give a shit first, remember my actual name before you give me a new one. Why have all my dates insisted on doing this lately?
I swipe to answer. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice calm but loud enough for Brad to hear. “What’s wrong?”
Jay doesn’t miss a beat, he’s panting dramatically. “Liv, thank god you picked up. It’s—uh—bad.”
I sit up straighter. “How bad?”
“Really bad,” he cries. “There’s water everywhere.”
My eyes widen for effect. “Water?”
“The sink… It… exploded. There’s a flood. The kitchen’s under siege.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting back a laugh. “Oh my god.”
“I’ve thrown all the towels we own at it. I’m losing ground, fast.”
A quiet snort escapes me before I can stop it. Brad looks startled.
“You need to come home,” Jay continues, tone perfectly serious. “Bring reinforcements. Maybe dessert, too.”
“I’m on my way,” I say quickly, standing and reaching for my coat.
“Good luck, roomie,” he says just before the line clicks off.
Brad’s staring when I hang up. “What happened?”
“Flood,” I say simply. “Blocked sink, I have to go.” I don’t even apologize because I’m not sorry. Brad deserves someone who will want to listen to his stories, and that’s not me.
He frowns. “Do you need help?”
I shake my head, forcing an apologetic smile. “No, I’ve got it. But thank you.”
