Next-Door Nemesis(64)
“Did you both forget how to eat?” I point toward their plates. “It’s not going to be as good if you wait until it’s cold.”
Neither of them makes a move for their plate and it feels like an insult to the perfect, crispy yet melty masterpieces we spent so much time crafting.
When Ashleigh said she had lots of cheese to choose from, what she really meant is that she bought out the entire cheese section at the grocery store. I’ve never seen that much cheese in one person’s house before. When she told us she had planned on using the leftovers to build cheese boards and host a leggings party, we broke into hysterics all over again.
“Forget about the panini and backtrack for a minute,” Ruby says. “He has a framed picture of you in his room?”
“And he . . . you . . .” Ashleigh squeezes her eyes shut and struggles to regain her composure. She’s as red as Mr. Wilson’s convertible. “How many times did you say again?”
“He has a lot of framed photos in his room.” I correct her because the logistics of this story feel very important. “But yeah, there’s one tiny picture in the corner that was of the two of us the summer before high school. We were at one of those baseball tournaments we always took him to. It’s probably nothing though. I bet it’s a placeholder. And for how many times”—I shift my attention to Ashleigh—“do you mean how many times did we have sex or how many orgasms did he give me?”
“I mean . . . I guess both?” Ashleigh reaches for the glass of wine she poured herself when I started talking in detail. Apparently, her group of friends isn’t as vivid with their words as I am. “Only if you’re comfortable sharing again. I don’t want to pressure you into saying something you don’t want to.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ruby cuts in. “I absolutely want to pressure her into saying it all. I’m only here for so long. I can’t go home knowing my best friend held out on me. Plus, Collins is a natural-born oversharer. It’s bad for her health for her to hold it in.”
This is very true.
My dad says my chatty ways come directly from my mom. My mom says it’s my dad. He vehemently denies being long-winded, but he has lost entire plots by focusing on details like what vegetable he was grabbing from the produce section when some guy tried to fight him.
I, however, don’t credit either one of them for my talkative ways. Being an oversharer is one of the main character flaws of being a writer. I often find the smallest details the most interesting and I love to paint a picture with my words. Even if they make nice, suburban housewives squirm in their seats.
“Okay, so we had sex twice, and for the orgasms . . .” I shut my eyes and start ticking my fingers trying to give an accurate count. “I think five? But that could be wrong.”
“So probably only four?” Ruby makes a reasonable assumption.
“I was thinking off in the other direction. It might have been more like six or seven.” It feels obscene to say out loud, but I don’t even care.
It was glorious to experience.
“And we’re still talking about Nathanial Adams, right?” Ashleigh asks. “The man who sold me my house, wears sweater-vests in June, and is on the HOA board? That Nate?”
“The very same,” I confirm, my toes curling in my shoes just thinking about him.
“I’m impressed and I’m glad you had that, but . . .” Ruby pushes her sandwich to the side and directs all her focus on me. “I think I’m going to have to be the buzzkill here.”
I knew this was coming and not in a bad way. When I’m being shortsighted about anything, I can count on Ruby being there to walk me through things. While I’m focused on the small details, she forces me to zoom out and view the whole picture.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I grab my wineglass and hold it close in case I need a sip. “Shoot.”
“You know I’m a proponent of having fun and doing what makes you happy. Whether that means a relationship, safe sex with multiple partners, or no sex at all, I think you should do what feels right,” she says. I already know this and I’m not sure if this is a reminder for me or her. “But no matter what, I think you need to go into it with your eyes open.”
I spin the crystal stem between my fingers but don’t drink it yet. “I totally agree.”
“I think if you want casual and fun sex, then you need to find someone other than Nate.” She rushes out the last words and lands the plane.
I knew it was coming, but it’s still a punch in the gut when I hear it out loud. And I haven’t even filled them in on Elizabeth yet.
“Okay, I hear you.” I take a deep gulp of wine and motion her on. “Now tell me why.”
“Because you care about him,” she says, simple and easy. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “And after seeing the way he was watching you on the back of that Mustang, I think he might have some hidden feelings for you too.”
“I knew it!” Ashleigh is living her best, know-it-all life right now, and I’m not sure I appreciate it. “I swear, it only took me—I don’t know, five minutes to see that beneath all the ridiculous jabs, you two really just wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. You’re like little kids at the playground.”
“Am not.” I pout, glaring at the two jerks in front of me.