Page 102 of Relationship Goals

“I see why they appeal to you so much,” she says, then smiles at me.

“Burn.” It doesn’t bother me, though. It’s true. All of those things could apply to me.

“Too soon in our friendship for bullying?”

“It’s not bullying if I like it,” I tell her.

“Kinky,” she says, and we both start laughing.

On the table, Michelle’s phone lights up, vibrating across the surface like it wants to be a part of the car chase on-screen.

I stare at the name on it for a second. “Is Tristan Gold calling you?”

“Ugh.” She throws a piece of popcorn at the device. Finally, it turns silent again.

One of the cars smashes through a huge window, going flying, and I snort.

Her phone begins to vibrate again.

“Answer it,” I say. “What if it’s an emergency?”

“Then someone who is working at the game with them can deal with it.”

“What if he just wants to talk to you?” I ask, as sweet as pie.

She glares at me.

“Answer iiiiiit,” I say in a singsong voice.

“No,” she says primly.

“Fiiiiiiine,” I sing in my best soprano impression, then fling my arm out, grabbing the phone. “I will.”

Michelle’s eyes and mouth both go round at once, and before I can stop myself and the manifestations of my intrusive thoughts, the phone is in my hand and I’m answering the call.

“Michelle, hi.” Tristan’s voice comes through on speakerphone.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

We look at the phone, and I point at it, mouthing for her to say hi.

She shakes her head, and I throw the phone at her.

The phone smashes into her hand, and she drops it like it’s a live snake, staring at it on the floor.

“Sayhi,” I hiss.

“Is that you, Michelle? Why are you whispering? Is this a game?” Tristan’s voice is slurred, and Michelle and I both look at each other in horror as it hits us at the same time that he’s drunk-dialed her.

Fuck.

“Michelle, I just wanted to talk to you.” He hiccups, and Michelle covers her mouth in clear mortification. “I love you. I just wanted to tell you that. I know you don’t think we can be together, and I mean, we haven’t been, but I think you’re great. I mean, I don’tlove youlove you, but I think I could.”

Oh. Oh shit.

Bad choices. I am made of them.

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