“Guilty face.” Jean demonstrated, looking down and to the left. Libby was pretty sure her roommate was exaggerating the lip nibble. And the hunched shoulders. She definitely hadn’t wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs.
“I think I might have messed up.”
“I thought you said you were ambiguously vague? We need to stay on your pretend-husband’s good side. Don’t forget about K’s restaurant.”
“I know! But I wasn’t talking about Mr. L. It’s Jefferson.”
Jean looked confused. “Who cares about him?”
Libby pressed her lips together, hoping her strangledmmmmdidn’t sound too much likeme.
“Did he bust you?”
She shook her head.
“Then why are we talking about him?” Jean moved to the closet, clearly more interested in Lillibet’s wardrobe options for tomorrow than talking about Jefferson.
“There was sort of an incident, I guess you could call it. In the shower. Between the two of us.”
“Did it involve you getting up close and personal with his package? A little FedX-rated role play? Special delivery in his pants?”
Leave it to Jean to make it sound like he’d lost control of his bowels. “He was being a gentleman. Protecting me.”
“From what?”
Libby hesitated, aware it wouldn’t sound right. “The water.”
“Was anyone naked?”
She shook her head, hoping the silentunfortunatelydidn’t show on her face.
“Okay, then. No big deal. Moving on.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m mostly disappointed.”
“Sorry.”
“That you have no criminal instincts,” Jean clarified. “How many years have we known each other? My skills should have rubbed off on you by now. But no, there you are, confessing like a punk.”
“Excuse me for being honest.” Intermittently honest, anyway. Libby still hadn’t mentioned the meeting on the beach. Or how hard she was finding it to think about anything else.
“Listen, we both know you broke your brain watching thatvideo a truly unhealthy number of times, but you need to let go of that fantasy man. He doesn’t exist.”
“He’s right down the hall.” Libby neglected to add that she could still feel the very real impression of his body against hers. That was not her imagination talking.
“And he’s an ordinary guy. Not whatever Thor-meets-Mr.-Darcy you cooked up in your head.”
What if he’s better?That was a dangerous thought, so she shoved it aside. “It’s a lot harder to fake it to someone’s face.” Especially if what you really wanted was to make that person like you—therealyou.
“It helps to think of yourself like one of those Russian dolls. You unscrew it and there’s another one inside. They’re all part of you, but not the only version, because people have layers. Show one to the world and keep the others hidden until you need them.”
That wasn’t terrifying at all.
“Anyway, I’m not worried about your little water aerobics with Mr. Fro Yo. He already has a girlfriend, and I’m not gonna lie, she’s pretty rad.”
“I like her, too.” Beyond the possibility of a job, Hildy seemed like someone Libby would want to hang out with. If only it didn’t require her to make asinine comments about personal enlightenment the whole time.
