Page 80 of Collision
“On the count of three!”
“No. No. No,” I beg her, trying to block her hands.
“One, two…”
“Wait, wait! Give me a minute. Just a minute,” I whine.
My friend snorts, rolling her eyes. “You say the same thing every time. We’ve been here twenty minutes, Nessy, my hand is cramping up.” Then, without warning, she shouts “three” and rips the wax off my crotch.
“Ah! I hate you!” I scream, squeezing my legs together and covering my face with my hands.
“There you go, smooth as a baby’s butt.” Tiff grins, proud of the job she’s done after twenty minutes of tears (hers) and protests (mine).
“Is she still in one piece?” I ask.
“Ready to go for a ride!” she says enthusiastically, closing the jar of wax.
I get up slowly from my bed and pat her arm.
“Don’t you know? I closed up shop and threw the key into the sea.”
She bursts out laughing. “Oh, come on, we all know you’re hiding a spare in your bra.” She winks at me as I get dressed. “You want meto believe that after no fewer than three dates with Mr. Boring you still intend to keep her locked up in your panties?”
“First of all, don’t call him that. Also, excuse me for preferring to build a certain kind of relationship before giving him my virtue,” I inform her haughtily.
“Your virtue was gone years ago. And I don’t seem to recall you going to all that trouble with Thomas.”
I could kill her for bringing him up. It’s been a month since we last spoke. Or rather, yelled. “Yes and look how well that turned out. I don’t want to rush it this time.”
“I get that, but you’re going at a snail’s pace. You and Logan have been out three times and you haven’t even kissed him yet. Why not just admit you’re bored stiff?”
“Because I’m not.”
“Come on, Nessy, we all know. He’s perfectly nice, of course. But not what you’re looking for,” she says.
“And what exactly am I looking for, Miss Mind Reader?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know, but I think a pair of green eyes and a lot of tattoos might crystallize the idea in your head.” She giggles as I glare at her, curling my lip.
“You’re wrong. I’m over that.” I turn my back to her and stand in front of the mirror to fix my hair.
“Of course. And I’m Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Just look at the way you blush every time you accidentally pass by him,” she teases. “Or the way that, every time he sees you with Logan, he suddenly becomes more unbearable than usual. I don’t know why you two try so hard to stay away from each other, when even the scenery can tell that you want to do the exact opposite.”
“I don’t care how it looks. He behaved badly with me and didn’t even pretend to be remorseful. All he did was rub my face in all his conquests. Logan, on the other hand, is exactly the kind of guy I need right now: he’s good, sweet, polite, thoughtful, romantic…”
“Boring,” she mumbles, covering the word with a mock-cough.
I ignore it.
“Do you realize that he has shown up for every one of our dates with a rose? I have never in my life received roses, and it’s wonderful. It makes me feel important!” I tell her, my eyes dreamy. Tiffany turns her back to me and pretends to retch.
“I can see you, you know,” I say dryly.
I throw a pillow at her, which comes right back at me.
Tiff opens the bag of gummy bears I brought from the kitchen, sits down on the bed, and pops one into her mouth with an expression of delight. “So where’s the big boy taking you tomorrow night?”
“We’re going out for Indian food and then to the movies.”
