“That’s not really a thing,” I say. “Is it?”
“It’s a thing, but most couples wouldn’t be okay with actually following through with it.”
“Well, even if you did want to follow through with it, good luck getting him away from Mia long enough to strip your clothes off.”
“I wish he’d break up with her already. She’s not even his type. Controlling. Snobby. She’s probably never worked a day in her entire life. And her laugh. Her laugh is terrible,” Courtney goes on and on, turning her head while I change. “He’s too good for her.”
“Maybe so, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they got married.” I put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and turn around to see her leaning against the wall with her palm pressed against her chest.
“My heart couldn’t take it,” she says dramatically. “I’ll be a wedding crasher then. I don’t think I’d hold my peace.”
“I don’t think you’d be invited.” I laugh.
“Hence the crasher part…” She smirks.
I shake my head and smile. “I’ve missed your level of crazy. It’s nice to be with my people again.”
“Good, then I better be your plus one if they do.”
“Obviously. But just for the record, I would love to have you as a sister-in-law.”
She smiles as she walks down the hallway to the living room. “Sign me up! I would fuck your brother so damn good. I mean, given that I was single.”
“Ew. Just no. Don’t ever say that word with my brother in the same sentence ever again.” I laugh and lock the door behind us. I swear she says stuff like that just to watch me cringe.
The top is down on the jeep, and the sun is lazily hanging in the late afternoon sky. The engine roars to life and Courtney turns the radio up as loud as it goes. We are rocking the typical college girl stereotype, in a Jeep, listening to hip hop, but I don’t mind. I’m really happy she’s home to be my personal distraction until Drew returns. Maybe she’ll pull the plug on whatever is going on between Travis and I.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and when I grab it, I see Travis’ name flash across the screen. Courtney takes notice and smiles.
“What does he want?” She lifts an eyebrow at me, and I when I don’t answer, she speaks up again. “Hello? Since when were you two on texting terms anyway?” She knows how I feel about him and has heard many hours of my hatred for him. I turn my head away from her, hoping to hide the evidence that’s all over my face. She doesn’t need to see the blush across my cheeks to know it’s there.
“Oh, my God,” she draws out. “Please tell me Travis King isn’t Mr. Rough ‘n Dirty Sex Machine Man,” she pleads, urgently, her hand squeezing harder around the steering wheel.
I slowly turn my head at her, knowing she’s going to find out now anyway. I shrug and pinch my lips together, unable to deny it.
“Holy crap on a cracker.” Her southern accent is more evident
“No judging,” I say before she can say another word.
“Oh, I’m so judging you right now, but more importantly, I want details, and not just regular sex details, I want Travis King details,” she says matter-of-factly.
“You’re ridiculous.” I try to disguise my voice as nonchalant and completely cool, but as soon as she pulls into the coffee shop and parks it, she flashes me a look that tells me she can see right through my poker face.
It’s a small local cafe, which means not many other cars are parked near us.
“So, when did it happen?” She’s beaming.
I sigh.
“See! I knew it. Please tell me he’s hung like a fucking bear.”
“Oh, my God.” I close my eyes and try to think of a way out of this. “I can’t talk about this in public, Court.”
“You’re right. We’ll go in the drive-thru instead.” She reverses the Jeep out of the parking stall and drives it over to the drive-thru lane.
“It happened last night.” I close my eyes a moment before opening them again and continuing. “I had been drinking, he was pissed I didn’t let him know where I was, and we got into a huge fight and…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “And I wish it never would’ve. I hate him. I hate him even more now.” I try to repeat it over and over so then maybe my body will stop responding to the thought of him.
“You totally hate-banged.” Her jaw drops almost as if she’s impressed.
I groan. “It was the best hate-sex I’ve ever had in my life.””
She frowns. “You mean your first time ever having hate-sex.”
I roll my eyes, albeit agreeing with her.
When it’s our turn at the window, she orders two soy lattes, blueberry muffins, and lemon pound cake. I dig around my purse for some cash as she pulls up to the window.