“I just want some support. I’ve always supported you two, even back when this one was calling you his future wife way too soon. I’m not trying to marry Mario, okay? I’m just thinking about spending some time in Los Angeles with him.”
“Quitting school to do so,” Samantha says.
“Yes, quitting school! I’m not on some scholarship like you, and this education isn’t worth stressing my family’s finances. These other classes haven’t exactly been super useful with my writing. I can register for some local classes and not bankrupt my family.”
Samantha nods. “I understand. Ben, you know that publishing a book isn’t guaranteed to change everything, right?”
“What, you don’t believe in me?”
“I—” Samantha takes a deep breath and turns to Dylan. “Cut it out. Your best friend is struggling and I’m not going to be the villain because you’re being immature.” She turns back to me. “Ben, I love you and I believe in you. You’re an amazing and dedicated writer. I want you to have some magical story where you publish a book and your life changes in all the best ways. But I don’t want your dream to bite you in the ass in the long run.” She gets up and shakes her empty juice bottle. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” She turns back to Dylan. “If you aren’t talking to Ben about how badly you want to make sweet love with him by the time I get back, then you’ll be making sweet love to yourself for a long time.”
Samantha walks toward the bathroom line, dropping the bottle into the trash like it’s a mic.
Dylan closes his eyes. “One cappuccino, two cappuccino, three cappuccino, four cappuccino . . .”
He was never a big fan of counting with Mississippis because he thinks no word should be that tricky to spell. It’s always been stupid to me since he’s not spelling the word when he says it, but Dylan is going to Dylan.
“。 . . ten cappuccino.” He opens his eyes and hits stop on Samantha’s phone’s stopwatch. “Hello, Benjamin. I appreciate you taking time out of your day so we may converse like civil men.”
I glare at him.
“I would like to speak with you about something I found rather upsetting if you’re willing to dialogue with me about said matter.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Once again, I appreciate your presence. So, the matter at hand was the discovery that you are considering a move to Los Angeles. Not from you, as one would expect between best friends for life, but instead by one Mario Colón. He dropped the bomb as if it were a plaything when I assure you that bombs are no toys.”
“Take that up with him.”
“I’m not particularly fond of him right now. He’s taking my best friend away from New York.”
“You don’t even live here anymore.”
“That could change! Chicago’s winters are the worst!”
“You know where winter isn’t the worst?”
“Don’t say it—”
“Los Angeles.”
“Damn you, Benjamin. You said it when I asked you not to, and I’m our worried our civil conversation is at risk of becoming uncivil.”
This is giving me a massive headache. “D, why do you care? You talked this big game about how we were going to hang out all summer, and instead you’ve canceled on me a thousand times—”
“Falsehood! Falsehood!”
“And your reasons are so weak. Why should I have to stay in New York when you’re not here? And even when you are, you’re being weirder than usual?”
Dylan leans in. “There are forces at play here that I cannot speak to because I have been sworn to secrecy,” he whispers. “The stuff happening in Samantha’s family is huge, but that’s her business and as her boyfriend I have been trusted with that and I can’t abuse it. Not even to you, my freckled best friend who equates my canceling of plans to the same crime as moving across the country without telling me.”
“I haven’t moved yet. We don’t even know if the show’s getting picked up!”
“And when might that information be forthcoming, pray tell? Or should I ask Mario?”
“I mean, Mario thinks we’ll know soon. Maybe a week or two? But even if Mario has to head out sooner, I don’t think I’d leave until next month.”
“Next month?!”
Samantha returns from the bathroom. “I don’t see anyone making sweet love.”