Radhya ends the call and gives Ari a hug. “I’m glad we’re doing this. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Ari straightens a cushion and plops down on the couch, making the springs creak. “I had to clear my busy schedule of quietly moping.”
Ari: you were in a long-distance thing.
You slept alone for most of your relationship
“So, that’s where you’ve been.” Rad glances at Ari’s phone suspiciously. It does feel slightly illicit to sit in Radhya’s apartment, texting with Josh. “Are we still on for Ikea next weekend?”
“Oh.” Shit. “I already went,” Ari says carefully. Slightly guiltily.
Radhya frowns. “You went by yourself?”
“Now I can enjoy a tiny bit of lumbar support with my despair,” Ari says, sidestepping the actual question. “I’m the proud owner of a shoddily constructed, hastily assembled, untreated-pine bed frame.”
“I need a new duvet cover.” Radhya lets her boots drop onto the rug with a thud. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”
“Now you don’t have to help me complete a construction project with those tiny hex wrenches.” Ari hasn’t been hiding her shopping partner, it just…hasn’t come up organically.
A loud ding sounds through the Bluetooth speaker. Ari plops down onto the now-orderly couch and glances at the message.
9:26 p.m.
Josh: Yes, but she was there in theory.
Radhya’s expression shifts from confusion to detective mode. Avoidance doesn’t slip past her. Distraction it is.
“You look amazingly hot in that dress,” Ari says, nudging the conversation in a new direction. Radhya’s wearing one of those loose-but-sexy sweater dresses that always look like shapeless tents when Ari tries them on. She glances down at her own jeans and old T-shirt. “And I look like the babysitter you hired to watch your fashionable toddler.”
“Wanna borrow something?” Radhya asks as she puts on chunky gold earrings.
“Anything Ari borrows is guaranteed to come back with a whiskey sour stain on it,” Gabe warns.
Ari: having a bed to yourself is the best
I would think you of all ppl would appreciate never having to find a loose hair in your sheets
Josh: Or crumbs.
Ari lets out an inadvertent cackle. Gabe and Radhya glance at each other.
“Okay, out with it,” Rad says. “Why are you smiling at your phone? Who’s the rebound?”
Ari forces her face to slacken into something neutral. “It’s not a rebound. Jesus.”
“The bartender?” Gabe asks.
Radhya continues to press. “Was Ikea a date?”
“No!” Ari insists with more vehemence than the question demands. “I have friends.”
Rad takes the seat next to her. “No one makes new friends after a breakup. It’s hard enough to be likable when you’re actually happy.”
“This is a person I can be miserable with.”
“So, there is a person,” Gabe says.
Ari stands up. “Why are you interrogating me?”
“The goofy smile? Hiding your phone.” Radhya steps into one of her torturous-looking boots with a grimace.
“Well, let me reapply my resting bitch face,” Ari says, waving her hand in front of her nose.
Ding!
Josh: Can I call you?
I need your take on this interaction I had with this yoga instructor.
I’m not sure I can accurately capture the tone over text.
Radhya zips up her other boot. “If you’re texting Cass again, I’m staging an interven—”
The aristocratic butler cuts in: “Incoming call from”—Ari curses as she fumbles to silence the phone—“Josh Kes-ten-butt poodle emoji.”
At first, nothing happens. Radhya and Ari simply stare at each other.
Maybe the name was indecipherable with the British accent. Maybe she hadn’t heard it. Maybe—
“Is this a joke?” It’s like Radhya’s face hasn’t yet figured out how to accurately express this particular form of betrayal. “An ironic code name you use for someone who’s not a toxic asshole?”
“Wait.” Gabe appears to be solving a math problem in midair. “？‘Poodle’ who?”
“Don’t freak out,” Ari says, voice laced with panic. “I ran into him a few weeks ago—”
“Weeks?” Radhya turns to Gabe, as if to verify.
“—we commiserated over our depressing lives and—I don’t know…we just hang out sometimes.”