“Seriously, Collins?” Ruby steps in front of me and cuts off access to the kitchen. “The entire reason I’m out here is because you shut me out and you’re already doing it again?”
I feel my temper starting to rise and it’s an unfamiliar sensation directed at Ruby. We laugh and listen and support each other, but I can’t remember the last time we fought.
“I’m not shutting you out, there’s just nothing to talk about. You were both saying how I needed to loosen up all night long and I listened.” I shoulder past her, needing this conversation to be over, but also wanting my panini. “End of story.”
“Not the end of story!” She grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “You’re either lying to me or to yourself. This isn’t some one-night stand and you know I’m right.”
“You know, I got a lot of different cheeses for the paninis. Maybe we should go sit in the kitchen and choose our sandwiches,” Ashleigh says in an attempt to defuse the situation.
As far as distractions go, a plethora of cheeses is probably the best technique I’ve ever come across. But it’s still not enough.
“I’m not lying and I don’t know why you think I am.” My voice begins to rise and I hate it. This is not what I wanted. “You’re making this into something way bigger than it needs to be. Nate and I are both adults; we’ve had flings before.”
“Collins.” Ruby levels me with a stare that causes my heart to fall to my feet, and I know what she’s going to say before she says it. “You know Nathanial Adams isn’t some other guy. You don’t hate someone the way you’ve hated him unless you’re really hiding some hurt and love deep down. Trust me. I see it every day at work.”
“God. You’re so fucking annoying.” I groan because I know I’ve lost. “I really wish you would’ve gone into corporate law and taught me tax evasion or something. That would’ve been much more useful than this.”
“You don’t think that as a divorce attorney I don’t know all the tricks in the book to avoid taxes and hide money? I could tell you everything, but you don’t make enough money for tax evasion.” She cuts me to the quick and turns to Ashleigh. “Now, you? Your husband’s a dentist. I can help you out.”
“Ummm . . .” Ashleigh’s eyes shift between me and Ruby, confusion written all over her blemish-free face. “Thanks?”
Poor Ashleigh. I’m sure she’s experiencing vertigo-like symptoms dealing with the two of us. This also clears up why Ruby was my only friend until we went to different colleges. I love us, but even I know we’re a little obnoxious when we’re together.
“Ignore her and show me the panini press.” I loop my arm around Ashleigh’s and pull her toward the kitchen. “I was watching a cooking show that said the key to a good panini is lots of butter. So once you two literally butter me up, I’ll spill all of the details of my night with Nate.”
“Are you two not fighting anymore?” Ashleigh asks.
“That little thing?” I wave my hand like I’m swatting her question away. “That wasn’t a fight. That was just Ruby knowing me better than I know myself.” I lean in closer and whisper, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this about me or not, but I’m a little stubborn.”
“She’s a pain in the ass,” Ruby singsongs beside us. “But don’t worry, Ash, I’ll give you all my tips to deal with her before I head back to Cali. Usually, food does the trick, so you’re already ahead of the curve.”
“You two are wild,” she says, but it lacks any venom. “I’m into it though.”
“Girl, with all these crazy-ass leggings you always have on”—Ruby points at the star-spangled spandex Ashleigh is still wearing—“wild is the only thing you should expect to invite into your life.”
I look at Ruby with wide eyes, trying to tell her to shut up with my eyes. I know how proud of this new “business” Ashleigh is and I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Plus, this is a massive step up from the oils. The product might be ugly, but at least the leggings people aren’t turning their customers into anti-vaxxers . . . or at least I hope they aren’t.
Ashleigh looks down at her legs and stares at them in silence for a few seconds.
“Crap.” Her shoulders sag and she lets out a deep sigh. “They are ugly, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, honey.” Ruby nods. “They’re atrocious.”
It might not be the moment for it, but I can’t help it. I laugh and I laugh hard. It’s not long before Ashleigh and Ruby join in. We double over, holding on to one another as we wipe away our tears and try to pull it together long enough to stuff our faces with cheese.
* * *
? ? ?
And then I snuck out of his back door and clung to fence lines and hid in bushes until I made it home.” I pop the last bite of my ham, apple, and brie panini in my mouth and take a second to decide if I want another one. “I really think sandwiches are one of the most underrated foods. There’s nothing better than a good grilled sandwich.”
I expect them to agree with me, but when I look up from my freshly polished plate, they’re just staring at me with their mouths hanging open, and their paninis have barely been touched.
“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.”