Page 27 of Get Lost

Chapter Eleven

The following Sunday afternoon, the girls sat around their favorite table at their favorite brunch spot in West Hollywood, enjoying their favorite past time: brunch and bottomless.

Well, Kelseyhadbeen enjoying brunch, but now, all three of them stared at Kelsey because Nessa had spilled the beans. Well, notfully, but she’d implied there was something Kelsey was hiding about last weekend in La Quinta. Something big and baguette-shaped.

And of course, the others jumped on it.

Well, notitexactly—though Kelsey had,heh; the girls jumped onher.

Kelsey stabbed her fork into a hunk of Humboldt Fog, then shoved it into her mouth to hide the smile pulling at her lips.

She should have known better. The girls knew her too well to miss the grin she’d bitten back when Nessa mentioned her dirty little secret, and, Brea—especially—didn’t give up easily.

“You hooked up with someone,” she said, astute as ever.

Kelsey shoved a cracker in to mix with her favorite goat cheese. “Mmm.”

“We can wait.” Brea laughed, raising her glass. “We haveallday.”

So Kelsey chewedextraslowly.

“Thanks, Ness,” Kelsey said after she finally swallowed her bite of charcuterie.

“Please…” Nessa laughed, dismissing Kelsey’s discomfort with the flick of her wrist. “Like you don’t jump at every chance to tell us about the hot men you sleep with.”

Kelsey gasped dramatically. “Who me?”

Brea snorted.

“I’m a great friend, letting your boring asses live vicariously through me.”

Nessa leaned forward. “Yes, so let us. Tell the group about thisbulging baguette.”

“What?” Brynn nearly spit out her sip of champagne. Laughing, she wiped at her mouth with her napkin. “Hiswhat?”

Brea turned more fully in her seat to face Kelsey beside her. “Yes, Kelsey, hiswhat?”

With a scoff, Kelsey pretended to be insulted. “I didn’t say it, Nessa did.”

“I didn’t pull it out of thin air, Kels.” Nessa picked up her cell phone from the table and started scrolling through texts. “Aha, here it is.‘Ness, omg, wait til I tell u about the chef with the bulging baguette’, eggplant emoji, squirting emoji.” Nessa set her phone back down, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s what you called it when you texted me aboutJean Pierre.”

“Jean-Luc,” Kelsey corrected. “And his baguette wasn’t just bulging, it was massive.”

The girls squealed, and Brynn covered her face with her napkin to hide the way her cheeks turned fifty shades of red. Poor girl was so easy to embarrass.

Kelsey leaned forward on her elbows, looking straight into Brynn’s eyes across from her. “Massive. Bulging. Throbbing.” Since Brynn kept giggling, Kelsey kept going. “His éclair was creamy—”

“Oh God,” Brea interjected, “that’s quite far enough.” She shook her head and gulped her champagne. “You’re going to break Brynn.”

“It was anexquisiteeclair.” Kelsey grinned devilishly. “Aburstingbaguette. Apulsatingpastry—”

“A creamy croissant?” Brynn interrupted, laughing so hard she snorted, then that got them all laughing harder.

“Socreamy,” Kelsey groaned.

A table of older women nearby quieted down and watched the girls reproachfully, so Kelsey turned toward them, waving her hand. “So sorry,” she said, laughing, “we were just talking about French pastries and how phallic they are. Baguettes, eclairs… you know.” Leaning toward them, she whispered, “Phallicmeans penis-shaped. Like ane-rec-tion.”

Two of the women gasped. If they’d been wearing pearls, the strands would surely be broken from all the clutching.

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