Maggie: The LAX house, I think? But tbh, your night sounds like more fun.
JT: You saying you want to kick my ass at Warlords II?
JT: Because that could be arranged.
Maggie: We’ll see. I mean, friends do play video games together, right?
I’m pretty proud of my flirt-texting, but just as I’m about to pass the phone to Viv for approval, I hear a door slam. Seconds later, Lynley saunters into the living room in a teensy, tiny, backless purple dress. Her boobs must be held up by magic.
“Where are you going?” Viv asks absently.
“LAX is having a party and that guy Benji said I should definitely go, so that’s where I’m headed. Are you two having a movie marathon or something?”
“Or something,” Viv answers, her head still buried in her phone.
“Later,” Lynley mutters, and I can’t tell if she’s annoyed that we didn’t fawn all over her and tell her how gorgeous she looks or if she’s just perpetually pissed off at the world.
I don’t have time to ponder, though, because Lynley’s out the door and Viv’s headed to the kitchen and in the process of pulling out ingredients from every single one of her cabinets.
“Looking for something?” I ask.
“My roommate’s soul,” she says, unearthing a large pan and setting it down noisily on the worn countertop. “Nevermind, she doesn’t have one. “
“She doesn’t,” I agree. “But you’ve got the makings of a cooking show in here. Are we baking?”
“Brownie sundaes,” Viv confirms, digging into the back of the fridge and finding an unopened can of whipped cream.
I’ve been queasy for a few days and haven’t felt much like eating. But brownie sundaes sound like actual heaven rightnow. We move around the kitchen, making the treats and cleaning as we go. It’s been years since we’ve lived in the same state, or cooked in the same kitchen, but right here, right now, it feels like no time has passed since we were wearing braces and making goodies for the bake sale in seventh grade.
The timer dings just as my phone buzzes, so I let Viv check the brownies while I tap the icon for my messages. We were just assigned a group project in Risk Management, so I’m figuring Evie and Ross, my partners, are texting back.
I wholeheartedly ignore the little zing I feel when I see that it’s not my fellow math nerds texting me, but JT.
JT: How’s the party?
Make that a double zing.
Maggie: No clue. We ended up staying in. Brownie sundaes are far superior to lukewarm beer.
JT: Truth.
JT: (and I don’t even like brownies.)
Maggie: Wait, what?
Maggie: Did you just say you don’t like brownies?! Everyone likes brownies. They are chocolatey, gooey, and delicious. And that basically covers the requirements for Best. Food. Ever.
JT: I’m not really into sweets.
Maggie: I’m not really sure we can be friends now…
JT:For real?
JT: That’s crazy.
JT: If anything, I should be at the top of the friend list now.
Maggie: How do you figure?
