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“How’s Oz?” Reese asked.
Fancy brushed her curls from her face. “You know Oz—”
“That question was for Dial.” Reese smirked, and I wanted to kick her underneath the table. Fancy’s eyes grew wide, which made me actually attempt to kick Reese.
“He’s working.” I gave a nothing to see here shrug.
“How was the sleepover?” Reese had clearly decided this was the perfect time to interrogate me because I couldn’t cut the conversation short or pretend to have bad reception.
“Fine. Maple painted our nails.” I wiggled my fingers in her direction.
“Did you and Oz…” She made a lewd gesture with her hand and mouth.
Fancy pivoted her head from Reese to me and back again. “Wait, I thought you guys were just thinking about getting back together, not actually hooking up.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time Dial and Oz got to hunching in recent months.” Reese was a bit of a shit starter. Apparently she was getting tired of the glacial pace of this relationship.
Cuss words were waiting on the tip of my tongue, but instead of deploying them I said, “Fancy didn’t know that.”
“You’ve been avoiding Oz like you’re dracaena trifasciata and he’s a leaf miner. Yet the entire time you two were bumping uglies?” Fancy said.
Clearly Edison laced his pillow talk with educational tidbits about the plants he loved so dearly. “Not the entire time, just sometimes.”
“I can’t believe y’all are fucking behind our backs.”
“I mean, that’s typically how it works.” Reese grabbed another slice of pizza.
Fancy shook her head in disbelief. At the party she’d guessed we were cordial but never suspected how far the niceties had progressed. “Ozzie never mentioned a thing.”
“That’s because if he told anyone, Dial would’ve cut him off.”
“So, we’re just telling Fancy all my business?” I said.
“She’s practically your sister-in-law.”
“Not by any law I recognize.”
“Dial, we’re besties now,” Fancy said. “We hate all the same people; we practically finish one another’s sentences.”
“No, we do—”
“Not!” Fancy shouted. “See, twins. Now dish.”
I pointed a finger of warning in her face. “If you tell Edison about any of this—”
“I won’t. I have secrets I don’t tell Edison.”
“Such as?” I said. Reese and I shared an expression of disbelief.
“Well, he does this little striptease dance.”
“Nope, don’t.” I wrung my hands.
“And he steps out of his boxers, and his ding-a-ling is swaying left and right.”
“No.” I covered my ears and pretended to retch. “I don’t wanna hear this.”
Reese leaned forward. “I do. So, his dick?”
