Barbie: I’m gonna head out soon. In case you don’t hear from me later tonight, I’m either stuck in LA traffic still or stuck in LA traffic still
Barbie: So goodnight :)
Unphotogenic Pilot: 01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 01101110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100
Unphotogenic Pilot: I’m sure you can easily decipher that
Unphotogenic Pilot: In case your software is on the fritz, it’s chatbot for goodnight
Barbie: Wow. You think you are SO funny
Unphotogenic Pilot: 01101101 01101001 01110011 01110011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101
Unphotogenic Pilot: It’s chatbot for yes I am
Barbie: I’ll have to take your word for it, Ethanol
“Oh, what’s this?”Vincent’s voice startles me and causes me to nearly drop my phone. “Giggling, smiling big, and—wearingher locket?”
Betty looks at her fiancé, then whips her head toward me, her eyes bright with equal parts accusation and surprise. “Barbie, do you have a boyfriend?”
Bell bursts into laughter while I gape at them. Now I’m frowning at her as well. “She’s going to tell you they’re just friends, which is also shocking.”
My scowl deepens. Maybe I should reconsider wanting to live close to my sisters.
“Who’s Barbiejust friendswith?” Vincent asks.
“Ignore her,” I begin. “Bell’s just super nosy?—”
“It’sCarter!” Bell shrieks.
“The sheets guy?” Betty and Vincent chorus at the same time. Bell immediately cackles and doubles over, clutching her stomach.
My lips press together. I’m not sure how to feel about everyone in this room knowing him as the sheets guy.
“She calls him every night, talking about her day,” Bell supplies. “They watch TV shows and movies together. They even have a farm together.”
“When did this happen?” Vincent asks.
“Ignore her,” I repeat. “She’s making it sound much more than it is.”
“It’s okay if you’re with him, Barbie,” Betty says gently. “We’re happy for you?—”
“I’m not with him.” My stomach twists as the words ring in my ears. “I’mnot.” My eyes start to prickle when they have no reason to. “Can we stop talking about him?”
“Of course,” Betty responds without missing a beat. “Let me wrap up some leftovers for you and Bell. Mind helping me look for the containers?”
Betty knows where everything in this apartment is, down to each fleck of dust. I know she’s giving me an out, which I graciously take.
Inside the kitchen, Betty rummages through the cupboard on the left for her glass containers while I busy myself with the pile of dishes in the sink.
“You know we’re not piling?—”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to answer,” she says after a minute has passed. “Did Carter reject you?”
“No. I was the one who told him I don’t do long-distance relationships.”
