Page 71 of All That Remains
"Heyyyy...." I said, blowing it off my toast with a frown.
"Alright, children, cut it out before I take both your phones!" John demanded, grabbing her wrist to stop a second attack. He bit her hand before letting go.
"It was great, honestly," I smirked and shrugged. "I ended up at his place—"
"Really?" she breathed, eyes like saucers. "What's it like? He any different?"
"Sooodifferent," I said. "But then...sofamiliaras well? A lot hadn't changed, yet a lothad, y'know?"
"Right, right, okay...what else?"
I glanced over into both their eyes for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. I needed to steer clear of spilling where things had ended up, meaning he and I in his garden making out beneath Mila's nose. So, I pivoted.
"I met Mila!"
"Hearst?" John balked.
"Mm-hm."
"He's dating her?!" Jen asked. When I nodded, she said, "Woah...good for him! She's gorgeous, right? A total babe."
"Yeah..." I shrugged.
John eyed me but didn't press the issue.
"So, what's she like?"
I shook my hair out, then tied it into a bun at my nape to buy time. I was grateful my aviators were still in place, working well to hide my frustration.
"She's, uh...stunning, obviously. Really tall, bubbly, friendly. Blonde. Part German or something."
"Well-fit," John said, in a mocking British accent.
"Of course."
"She more beautiful in person?" he asked.
"What's it toyou?" Jen spat.
"Hey, just curious. Y’know most people look worse in person than they do on camera, with all the filters and airbrushing and whatnot. We talk about this all the time." He threw his hands up in surrender.
"Yeah...it was about the same," I said. "She looks, uh, exactly the way she looks on TV, I guess. Nothing too crazy.”
“No acne? Awful skin texture?”
“No, her pores were marvelous. Skin was clear. It was only weird seeing them together, I guess."
"Why?"
"Duh, why do you think?" John interrupted with a smirk. "Becausehecalled dibs first. You know how Rafe is."
"In that case, who hasn't?" Jen muttered. "I'm sure half the world has called dibs on Mila already."
"No, actually, not me," I spat. "Not interested."
"No?"
"Not in the least. Not my type," I slipped, but reeled back before anyone else could detect my disdain.
