fly in tomorrow,” I suggest.
Lo did
call to deliver a more detailed account of what happened. Daisy was thrown out of a runway show only minutes before she was supposed to walk, and the designer basically ripped off her clothes. In front of everyone backstage. I would have been mortified if that was me, so I wasn’t surprised that she was upset. But I am a little shocked that she chose to call Ryke and only Ryke about the incident.
He
immediately wanted to check up on her in person. And when they spent the night, Daisy woke them up, screaming like she was being murdered. Apparently she was “stuck” in a nightmare…or something like that.
Chills
still prick my skin every time I imagine it. Lo said, “It was horrifying.” It was horrifying. I want to jump on a plane and hug my sister, not leave her with our significant others and Ryke.
“We can’t fly in tomorrow,” Rose tells me, her eyes still narrowed at her cellphone. “You won’t graduate.”
After
being delayed for so long, I can almost feel the crisp paper of my diploma, so close. But I have a huge exam, and if I don’t make the date, I’ll be given a big fat zero. My professor said, “In order to be excused, you need to be dying in a hospital.” This particular professor isn’t fond of the “celebrity special treatment” either, so I have to be there.
In the
flesh.
“You can
go,” I remind her, already feeling a bout of guilt for not being present for Daisy. I don’t want to hold Rose back too.
She
pockets her phone in her clutch and sidles up to the counter. I smell coffee being brewed by one of the employees. “I’m not leaving you,” she says. I read into the rest: not while you’re pregnant.
I give her
a weak smile.
Rose
straightens up. “Now where are your notecards? I’ll quiz you.”
I fish
them out of my backpack at my feet and pass the disorderly stack to her.
She
snorts. “Connor is a horrible tutor. He didn’t even teach you to rubber band these.”
“He did,”
I say, even though I thought that “helpful tip” was pretty self-explanatory. “I just always lose the rubber bands.” My tablet pings on the counter. I’ve been entrusted with the internet to study for my exam, but I may have also setup notifications for certain tags on Tumblr.
I don’t
deny it.
I’m still
a little obsessed.
I just
don’t want another surprise like the one about Lo’s dad. Plus, I sometimes fear that the pregnancies will just pop up online. That cannot be the way Lo finds out.
Swiping my
finger across the screen, I power the tablet on and check the alert: 1 New from #Coballoway. I click into the tag, and my cheeks burn at the gif of Connor’s hand gripping Rose’s bottom, her ass already a little red. I quickly click out. I didn’t see it.
Rose
finishes straightening my cards together and gives me a look. “Why are you all flushed?” I’m flushed in embarrassment, not arousal, just to be clear. Her eyes flit to the tablet. “Lily, do you have internet on there?”
“Just a
little bit,” I blurt out.
“Okay”—she
snatches the tablet from me—“you can’t have a little bit of internet.” She logs into my settings.
“It’s for
work purposes, and you know, studying.”
I tap my highlighter to my book for further emphasis.
“Stick to
your notecards.”
She just
doesn’t trust me as much since the doctor’s office. I think she’s waiting for me to slip back into my old, destructive porn-filled routine. Which is understandable. But she’s pregnant too and…
My eyes
grow big as my thoughts take a dangerous turn. “Rose,” I whisper, leaning close, “are you going to be able to have sex now that you’re pregnant?” I frown, thinking harder. Oh my God. “Can I have sex when I’m really, really pregnant? Oh my God. What about right afterwards?” I lunge for my tablet. I need answers. Answers that the worldwide web can provide.
“Lily,”
Rose snaps, raising the tablet over my head. Damn her heels. “Be calm.”
“Aren’t
you freaking out? Just a little. Even internally?”
“Internally
I’m rolling my eyes at you,” she deadpans.
Oh. “These
are valid questions.” I point at her. “You should be more worried. I mean, you and Connor do it like…” I trail off.