"Can we get this out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of our day?" I ask.
She purses her lips, considering it. "Okay, I am a little concerned."
"About?"
"You have a history and you're alone in New York and I'm pretty sure you've lost five pounds."
"I have not."
"Well, your tits don't look quite as huge," she says.
I laugh. "So you're checking out my tits?"
"Always." She shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. At least that makes two of us. "Just put my mind at ease. Convince me you're doing awesome and that you'll tell me if you have a problem."
I frown. Why is it my responsibility to convince everyone I'm okay? Why can't okay be my default state?
"That's not very convincing."
"I'm doing okay," I say. "Not awesome but okay enough."
"Can I do anything to help bring you up to awesome?"
"Let me deal with it on my own."
She nods. "I don't want to ruin our day. I want to have fun dragging you to all the places I went to in college." She laughs. "And I have awesome plans tonight. You like burlesque, right?"
"I love burlesque."
"Great, because I already bought tickets to this amazing performance. It's totally famous in the performance art community. And that is all going to be so much more fun if I'm not worried that you're planning your next binge."
"I'm not."
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"I won't be. If you let off with the 'don't order oatmeal' shit."
"But oatmeal is so..."
"Jesus Christ. Did I miss some kind of memo where all the cool kids decided to hate on oatmeal eternally?" I ask.
She nods. "You haven't been cool in a long time." She takes a long sip of her coffee, formulating some response. "So are you really okay?"
"I really am."
She sighs, her shoulders relaxing as her lips curve into a smile. "Then I'll stop."
"Good." I take another long sip of my coffee, trying to taste every note of flavor. To think about something besides this conversation.
Laurie is always protective, but this isn't like her. There has to be some reason...
There can only be one reason for this.
Luke.
He must have put her up to this. I bite my lip. I'm sure he meant well, but I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everyone looking at me like I'm about to break.
"Laurie," I say.