“Well, your brother's carelessness has left me homeless,” I say, crossing my arms. “Again.”
The blonde woman’s eyes widen with sudden recognition, like I’m a surprise celebrity appearance at her family barbecue. “Wait—you’reMia? The writer?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”
“I'm Lily,” she beams, launching herself at me wrapping her arms around me in an almighty hug.
I freeze. Shaken by the sudden change in conversation. I hug her back. Sort of. Mostly I pat her shoulder like she’s a feral cat I’m trying not to startle.
“I’ve heard so much about you!” she gushes, pulling away with a grin so genuine it could power a small town.
Heard aboutme?
From who?
FromGrant?
Surely not. He wouldn’t have mentioned me to his girlfriend.
And if he did, what exactly would he have said?“Oh hey, Lily my love, you know the other day I went into town, well, there’s this girl in town—real firecracker—ended up with my tongue right down her pussy and halfway down her throat while you were here, being the good little girlfriend back home, probably alphabetizing the spice rack and waiting for me to finish my moral collapse.”
“Ha!” is my only response, as I continue to stare at Grant’s girlfriend.
I can feel my face doing that horrible twitchy thing—where one eye is blinking excessively and my mouth is frozen in a fakesmile. I’m fully aware I look deranged, but completely helpless to stop it.
My soul is halfway out the door waving a white flag and my intrusive thoughts are doing backflips.
I amnotequipped for this social curveball.
What.Do.I.Do?
Do I confess everything? Just lay it all out there like, “Hey, real sorry I frenched your boyfriend while you were here, busy making lemon water and being stunningly supportive, hee hee.”
Oorrr…Option two.
Do I take off these soaked bunny slippers andyeetthem at her as a distraction, while I sprint back to the cottage like a deranged feral woodland creature?
I squeak out a laugh. And no, not a cute little laugh. Oh no, it’s the kind of noise a dying squirrel might make. Somewhere between a wheeze and a full-on nervous breakdown.
Oh yeah, my vocal cords are betraying me in real time over here.
I could fake a nosebleed.
Pretend I don’t speak English.
A kaleidoscope of obscene and all very unhelpful options fly through my mind, but no, I momentarily shake my head. If Lily knows who I am, that means Grantmusthave told her. Looking like that. All blonde and gorgeous and natural, like she eats clean and wakes up glowing.
Oh God. My body feels the full-on cringe internally as I prepare myself.
I decide to go with option two, as I begin to lean down, ever so slowly, grabbing the floppy ear of my sodden bunny slipper with full intent toyeet that sucker straight into the atmosphere—
“My Dad mentioned you were staying in the cottage,” Lily continues.
I blink. Brain buffering.
“…Ahhh,” I nod, awkwardly slipping the wet slipper back on, like it didn’t almost just become a projectile missile, feeling incredibly relieved for the interruption of my intrusive thoughts and the explanation.
“I..uh..yeah, I was staying there.” I say as casually as I can muster.
