Page 3 of My Best Friend's Sister

“A boyfriend can’t give me the unconditional love I deserve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Neither can a teenager.”

“I’d have years to prepare for that.”

“Can we discuss this later?” I asked. “I’m in an Uber.”

“Sure,” she said, like we’d been talking about something as inconsequential as where we might go for brunch this weekend. “I wasn’t calling about that anyway. I wanted to know if you’d heard back from BELLE about the Look Book you sent in.”

My heart grew heavy. “I did, yeah.”

“Bad news?”

“Yes and no.”

“I’m listening,” she said, even though she was clearly chewing. Probably on those dehydrated sugar snap peas she was addicted to. Which was the problem with Maeve—her only problem, really. She was an intense, all-or-nothing kind of girl. Part of me feared she’d be inseminated by the end of the week now that she’d decided having a baby was the next landmark on her personal ladder of achievement.

“They offered me an internship.”

“That’s awesome!”

“It’s unpaid, though,” I said. “Apart from reimbursement for basic travel expenses.”

“So? Surely you have savings.”

I groaned inside. “No. That’s you.”

She responded with a muted grunt of disapproval that she definitely picked up from my mother.

“And since I can barely pay my half of the rent as it is—”

“Why doesn’t Kiki’s boyfriend start chipping in?” she asked. “Didn’t you say he practically lives with you guys now?”

“As a matter of fact, he does absolutely nothing but that, far as I can tell.” I thought back to this morning when I walked in on him smiling at the Calvin & Hobbes book he kept beside the toilet. It must’ve been the twentieth time he’d failed to lock the door, and I was starting to think he wanted me to catch him taking a shit. “Unfortunately, I think Kiki would be more likely to kick me out than ask him for money. She’s too intoxicated by his infatuation with her.”

“Maybe a boyfriend is all I need.”

I shook my head.

“I’d offer to let you move in with me, but I don’t have the space.”

Or the patience, I wanted to say. “That’s okay. I’ll figure something out.”

“Why don’t you move in to James’s place while he’s away?”

“Doesn’t he live with Quinn?” I asked, as if I wasn’t sure.

“Last I checked.”

I grunted my disapproval, just as she had. Perhaps my mother’s ticks were more contagious than I thought.

“Does that matter?” she asked. “It sounds like you already live with someone you hate.”

“You have a point there.”

“I know. And BELLE won’t wait for you forever,” she said, popping a cork on her end, since her screw-top days ended with her last promotion. “Mention it to James tonight once he’s good and sauced. He’ll say yes. He’d do anything to help you out.”

“True,” I said… But would Quinn?

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