Oliver laughs. “In her defense, you’re the one who told us you took...what’s her?—”
“Toni,” Lucy fills in the blank.
“Toni, home.”
“And if Ginelle kept her mouth shut, like I asked her to, I wouldn’t have had to tell either of you anything.”
“You don’t tell anyone anything, Cilli.” Lucy grins. “That’s why I have to coax information from your cousin.” She waggles her fingers suggestively.
I grimace. “Please, I’ve got enough fucked up images in my head. I don’t need to add that to it.”
Oliver gestures to me with a fry. “Ok, but if you had a good time?—”
“Are you really on her side here?” I cut him off.
“I’m on her side when she’s right.”
“And I am usually right.” We both give her the look that statement deserves. “What?”
“Dani?” I ask.
Oliver points in agreement. “Meredith?”
“Stevie?” I add.
“New York?” Oliver and I say at the same time.
“Bringing up New York is transphobic.” She huffs dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. Oliver and I laugh at her faux offense.
“Answer the question,” Oliver says once we’ve caught our breath.
“Like I said before Lucy started this inquisition, she didn’t want anything beyond one night, so it didn’t make much sense to trade information.”
“And what about what you want?” Lucy asks, her tone suddenly serious.
I shrug. “What about it?”
“I’m assuming you communicated your preference to her?”
“Nothing to communicate.”
Lucy’s eyes narrow. “Bullshit.”
“What is it I want, Lu? Tell me, since you seem to know so well.”
“I don’t know. But I do know it’s usually good form to at least try to figure it out for yourself and communicate with the other person.”
“No offense, but should you be handing out relationship advice you clearly aren’t capable of taking yourself?” I see the jab land and almost regret it.
“Oh, fuck you,” she snaps.
“Spicy,” I mock.
“At least I’m out here trying to take my own advice and not stewing in my own misery alone all the damn time.”
“Stewing—”
“Ok,” Oliver interjects, “no fighting before a show.”
