Fern interrupted her. “Bupbupbup.Hey. We’ll ask the questions.” The teal-dipped ends of her dark hair bounced as she pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’d best get in here and explain yourself, young man.”
“What?” I asked, bewildered.
Monica took my phone and handed it to Fern, who scanned it quickly.
“What does John mean, ‘enjoy your night with John’?” she asked.
“John means, you know,John.” Monica widened her eyes significantly. “NotJohn-John, butOther-John. The one Teagan went out with last night.”
“And you’re seeingOther-John two nights in a row? Teagan, really.” Fern shook her head disappointedly. “What aboutJohn-John? Have you considered his feelings at all?”
Wait, what the hell was going on?
And how was this somehow my fault?
The word “John” had been repeated so much it was starting to lose all meaning.
“I’m not seeing John tonight! I was supposed to have plans withmyJohn.” My cheeks went hot. “I mean, myroommateJohn. We were going to watchKnightfall, but then I told him I had news and said I wanted to postpone Netflix Night so we could go out and celebrate my news instead, and…” I shook my head again. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
Fern and Monica exchanged a look. “Come in, honey,” Monica said, gesturing me toward her apartment. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“Give me back my phone,” I told Fern once we’d gotten inside. “I’m going to text my…roommate…and ask him what the fuck.”
But Fern didn’t give the phone back. Instead, Monica handed me a giant water glass full of slushy strawberry margarita and pushed me down onto the overstuffed sofa.
“So, whatisyour news?” Fern asked, sitting on the coffee table right in front of me.
I squirmed, reluctant. “Do you remember me mentioning how John’s sister and I wrote a children’s book? Well, it’s about that. And I wanted to tell John before I told everyone, because he’s the one who inspired everything, and… yeah.”
Istillwanted to tell John first. This felt like his news as much as mine, in a way.
I gulped down my margarita.
“You wrote a book,” Monica said flatly. “That’syour news?”
“Could you sound alittlemore excited?” I demanded. “Yes, that’s the news. Jeez. When was the last timeyouwrote a book?”
Monica and Fern exchanged another look.
“We thought the news was about John,” Fern said. “Other-John.”
I stared at her blankly. “Why the heck would you think that? We went on one date. It was… fine, I guess? Not newsworthy.”
“But.” Monica frowned and sat on the sofa beside me. “You got all dreamy over him. When we were walking in earlier, I asked how your date was last night, and you were all moony and distracted.”
“Not because of my date,” I assured her. “Because I’d just gotten an email about the book.”
“Ohhh.” Monica winced. “Uh. I may have jumped to a teeny, tiny conclusion…”
“Question.” Fern lifted a finger in the air but kept her eyes on my phone screen. “Does this Other-John person realize that your date with him was only meh? Because these texts… ‘Last night was so magical, Teagan’? ‘I need to see you tonight’? That doesn’t sound meh.”
“What texts? Give me that.” I snatched the phone away from her and quickly scrolled. “Oh,ew. Noooo. Nope.” I flashed Fern a guilty grimace. “He was nice enough, but I was actually sitting across from the poor guy the whole night thinking how much I’d rather have been home. He caught me daydreaming liketwicewhile he was talking about his five-year goals,and I felt so bad I hadn’t been listening that I did that overly enthusiastic encouragement thing, you know? Like ‘Oh my gosh, wow! That, um, thing you said was, like, so inspiring that I needed to, like, sit with it for a minute and take it all in! Live, laugh, love, you know?’” I shrugged. “I guess I was more convincing than I’d hoped.”
Monica snickered.
I frowned and looked up at Fern. “When the heck did these messages come in, anyway? I didn’t see them.”
Fern shrugged. “Check the time stamps, silly. They were on your lock screen under John’s last text, so… sometime before that? Ohhhh, wait! Is it possible thatyourJohn saw them? Because if so…”
