Page 34 of Rewrite the Rules

I debate a text…no. I want to hear her voice.

It rings just once.

“Hello?” She sniffles.

“Adler?” My heart comes to attention. My girl—I mean my friend—is crying. “What’s wrong?”

I can hear her wiping her tears, and snot, I’m sure with her sleeve like a child. “Nuffing.”

I hear The Rembrandts playing in the background. Yeah, I know what this is. She’s watchingFriends. It’s Saturday night. Friday night is girls’ night. Saturday is Adler’s introvert night. Sunday is her catch-up day for chores and upcoming week prep which is ridiculous because she’s so hyper organized there’s nothing to catch up on or prep for.

Here’s fun tidbit number eighty-seven I’ve recently learned about my new pal, Adler. She is obsessed with any sitcom where friends are incestuously codependent. The list includes but is not limited toSex and the City,Friends,How I Met Your Mother,Big Bang Theory,andThat ’70s Show. Friend families resonate deeply with her. It’s also where I think her passion for Spice Girlsis rooted from.

I haven’t been bold enough to unwrap that package because there’s probably a specific reason she only references her grandma when she occasionally mentions her childhood. She’s never once brought up her parents yet I know they are both still alive. They are on her work-provided life insurance policy as next of kin. The puzzle pieces tell me Adler’s holding on to painful secrets. Am I curious? Hell yes. Is it my place to ask? Hell no. I’m still building the friendship. I work on it daily. It’s become my new favorite job since I kissed Adler two weeks ago and told her where we had to draw the line.

“You’re crying. Did Ross and Rachel just break up or did Chandler and Monica find out they can’t have a baby?”

“First of all—I’m not crying, it’s called misting. Second of all—stop acting like you know me so well.”

“Am I wrong?” The bartender stops in front of me and taps the counter between us.‘Guinness,’I mouth. He holds his hands wide apart then pulls them in closer.‘Sixteen-ounce,’ I mouth again. He nods and disappears. I’m sure I’ll see that drink in about twenty minutes.

“Monica and Chandler can’t get pregnant…shuuut up.”

Knew it.

I wish I was with her. I’d scoop her up in my arms and kiss her wet cheek.It’s just a show, baby.I’d feel her warm body pressed into mine and we’d fall asleep on the couch. We’d wake up to the reruns playing and stale popcorn on the living room table, still cuddled up against each other for warmth in lieu of a blanket. But these are the luxuries you omit when you don’t do relationships. I glance over my shoulder to see Sarah finishing off the shots at our table and then tucking a lime between her teeth. I bet Sarah doesn’t watch friend-based feel-good sitcoms.

“Where are you? It’s loud.”

“That bar you told me about. Rise. I brought Cody out.”

“Ah. Have you asked him to go steady yet?” She snorts.

“Sure haven’t.” I mentioned to Adler last week that I wanted to ask Cody to move out here permanently. It’s been nice to have my friend around. When he goes home, he’ll only be surrounded by reminders of everything he’s not doing this football season. I need the company and he needs a change of scenery. It’s a sound solution. “There’s uh…a lovely young lady here that has been ‘talk blocking’ me all night. I don’t know where Cody ran off to. He was just here...” I scan the bar area looking for his colossal frame.

“Go find the bustiest brunette in the entire bar and check her lips—that’s probably where he is,” Adler says. It’s scary how accurate that probably is. Pants is more accurate than lips, but Adler’s too forgiving to say it.

“Do you want to catch a movie?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you pull up movie times? I’m on the phone.”

“So am I.”

“But I would bet my life you’re on your AirPods. You can see your screen.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like youknowme.” Ha! I’m right. I’m always right. Because when it comes to Adler, I pay attention to everything. I store every memory of her in the keep folder of my mind. “And what about thelovelyyoung lady you’re keeping company?”

I clear my throat and lower my voice. “What’s the gentlemanly way to let her down easy?” I tuck my phone between my cheek and shoulder as I pull out my wallet. The bartender pours my beer and sets the frosty cup in front of me with enough force that the espresso-colored liquid splashes out and dribbles down the side of the glass. He snatches my card hastily and runs it back to the register. He’s probably trying to clear out space by the bar, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back to that sectional. I’m sure by now Sarah is another shot deep and if I go back over there, she won’t stop at over-the-pants petting me.

“How about you wait until you’re both alone in your car, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and right when she leans in to kiss you, tuck and roll into the street.”

I growl in frustration. “I did not tuck and roll. And you’re never going to let that go, are you?”

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