"You don't want to know, but I'll tell you later." I sighed, thinking about the heaven that was happening right before the shit hit the fan.
Are you technically a fan? Hi-Yo! Bah Dum Bum.
"Never mind, I'll let it remain a mystery," she replied, sitting down across from me at the counter. "So, how is the British invasion going? Has he invaded your hoohah yet?"
Sweet lord.
"How long have you been waiting to use that one?" I asked, staring at her.
"Just since this afternoon, I swear," she protested. "Things went well, though, I take it?"
"Yeah, it was good. And no hoohah has been invaded." I gestured with my knife, pointing it at her.
"Really? You're losing your touch, missy."
"If I may remind you, Slutty Slutterson, I only met him a few days ago. That's hardly enough time to let anyone invade anything," I scolded her, dropping the pasta in the pot with a big handful of kosher salt. Giada would have been proud.
"And if I may remind you of a certain night in New York City, New Year's Eve, I believe it was…" she scolded back.
"No, you may not remind me. That was a long time ago," I shushed her.
"Really, Grace, in a bathroom at the Marriott Marquis…for shame." She shook her finger at me.
"Enough! You wanna go? You wanna go?" I warned. "Graduation? Nicholas Rabinowitz…and his girlfriend?"
That shut her up fast.
"Truce?" she huffed, eying me warily.
"Truce," I agreed, offering her my olive.
"Olive juice," she said.
"Olive juice, too, ya little fruitcake," I admitted, adding oil to the pan and lightly browning some garlic.
"Hmm, so no invasion yet. But how did the afternoon go?" she asked, stealing a tomato out of the bowl.
"Hey, you'll spoil your dinner! And today was…wow," I said, closing my eyes briefly.
"That good, huh? Where did you go?" she asked, taking the opportunity while my eyes were closed to grab another tomato.
"We drove Sunset all the way to the beach and then had lunch at Gladstone's. I saw that, by the way," I chided, calling her out on her tomato thievery.
"And then what happened?" she asked, leaning forward on her stool.
"Then we walked on the beach and we talked and laughed and laid on the sand, ." I rushed through the last part, holding my breath to see which admission would get the loudest scream.
I was surprised when I heard, "He kissed you! Fuck me, Grace, you just made out on a freaking beach with Super Sexy Scientist Guy!" She launched herself across the cook top and hugged me, coming dangerously close to lighting herself on fire.
"Hey, hey, watch yourself! Be careful, please. I want to go dancing tonight, not to the burn unit!" I shouted, untangling her arms from around my neck and scooting her safely back across to her side of the counter. She watched me closely as she sipped her drink.
"He's not Joshua. He's Jack. And he's damn fine," I added, pressing my lips together trying not to scream myself. "And we didn't technically make out. We kissed."
"Tongue?"
"No tongue…not yet." I waggled my eyebrows at her. She continued to watch me in amazement. I could tell she was beside herself that her best friend was getting some play. Holly and I still talked as if we were teenagers.
"The thing is, though, I don't get it. I mean, I'm like, nine years older than he is," I grumbled.
Yep, I had done the math.
"So? He clearly doesn't care about you being an old bag," she teased, winking at me.
"No, seriously. He is cool and all and we have a good time together. And fuck, there are some powerful sex vibes being thrown back and forth, but come on! He's going to realize any second that this is crazy." I stirred the sauce vigorously, finally giving voice to my concerns.
"He seems to like crazy and you definitely fit that bill. Besides, I don't know who you think you're convincing here. I've seen some of the guys you were dating before you moved back out here. They were all younger than you," she challenged.
"That wasn't dating, that was eight years of sexual frustration exploding and landing on pretty boys." I smiled, thinking about Trevor, my trainer at the gym.
Mmm, remember when he had you work on your core strength by making you balance on the exercise ball, while his mouth worked on your…
"Grace, the pasta is done," she interrupted my thoughts. "Take it out before it gets soft."
"That's what she said," I muttered, smiling to myself. Maybe I could handle this after all.
"Wait a minute! You just cooked me dinner with bird shit in your hair?"
Oops.
***
After dinner, I let Holly clean up the kitchen while I went to take a shower. After washing my hair three times in scalding water, I exfoliated myself in all the places that need exfoliating and was shaving my armpits when I heard Holly come into my bathroom. I peered through the frosted glass at her.
"What the hell? You here for a peep show?" I asked.
"I couldn't wait to show you this. Look what's on the internet," she said, mischief in her voice. I opened the door slightly and looked at her laptop. It was on the TMZ home page.
It was Jack and me at lunch. He was laughing, hand in his hair and leaning towards me. I was glaring at him, pointing a shrimp.
I remembered this moment. He had just told me I had a bat in the cave.
The caption below the picture said:
"New heart-throb, Jack Hamilton, caught at the beach with an unidentified redhead. Is this the new lady in his life?"
The next few pictures were of Jack and the two women that had approached him for the pictures. Those bitches sold his pictures to make a buck!
"Are you kidding me?" I said angrily, rinsing off my razor and attacking my underarm.
Mistake!
"Hey, what did you expect? I told you, he's getting more and more popular by the day. You should see all the websites devoted to him. This? This is nothing," she assured me, pulling her phone out of her pocket.
"Who are you calling? Shit," I moaned, shampoo running in my eye.
"Who do you think? It's time to call the Brit," she answered.
"Wait, wait! Don't call him!" I pleaded, trying to stop the flow of blood from my underarm and the flow of bubbles directly into my eyeball. Not my prettiest moment.
"Too late…Hi Jack! It's Holly. Listen, just had to let you know you're on TMZ again…Yep, I'm looking at it right now. Yep, it's you and Grace at the beach…No, you're not rolling in the sand, you're eating lunch. Wait, when were you rolling in the sand? I didn't hear about that part." She moved the phone away from her mouth and yelled, "You didn't tell me about the rolling in the sand, Grace. I'm hurt you skipped over that. All I heard about was the kiss!" She loved her life right now.
Mortified, I slid down the wall of the shower and let the water beat down on me. I was an unidentified redhead with a bloody armpit and a British addiction. Moreover, my best friend was delighting in all of it.
"Yeah, she's right here. She's in the shower, in fact…Oh, Jack! I told Grace the funniest joke about the British invading her hoo—Wait, what?…Hold on…Grace, Jack would like you to know that he has seen the pictures and he thinks you were pointing that shrimp at him far too aggressively…No, she isn't acknowledging you. She's now banging her head against the shower tiles…Oops, now she's glaring at me…she's turning off the shower, Jack…she's coming towards me…she's naked, Jack…and angry…she's naked and angry, Jack…you would probably love angry, naked Grace. It's something to see. She's hitting me, Jack…I think she's going to take the phone away from…"