Avery
“I swear, Avery, Ryan does this thing with his tongue . . .” Beth’s voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over. “I came so hard I saw stars.”
I glared at my best friend, dropped my fork, and held up my hands in supplication. “For God’s sake, Beth, I’m trying to eat here.”
Not at all worried over my reaction, she smirked. “I’m just saying.”
“I know what you’re saying.” I lowered my voice as I looked around, feeling self-conscious. “You and Ryan have a great sex life. I don’t. I get it.”
She speared a forkful of salad and lifted it to her mouth, chewing as she regarded me thoughtfully. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
I exhaled hard. “I think Justin Trudeau’s father was Prime Minister.”
“Since you weren’t even born then, I doubt that.”
I shrugged. “Let’s just say it’s been a while.”
“You’ve been on a few dates since you broke up with Grant.” She eyed me with concern. “That was over two years ago. Surely you’ve had sex since then.”
I dug my fork into my salad with a little more force than necessary. It had been a long while. “A few dates, yes. But, no, I haven’t.”
“You didn’t sleep with any of them?”
“No.”
“What about that guy you said you hooked up with at the bar a few months ago? You even messaged me. No good?”
I squirmed a little in my chair and picked up my iced tea. I had texted her while slightly tipsy, thinking it was funny. “Hook up may have been too strong a word.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What word works then?”
“Well, we did hook up. By that I mean, the key ring I keep clipped on my purse caught his sweater. I had to spend a couple moments unhooking the clip as he berated me for being so careless and causing his precious cashmere garment damage.” I lifted one shoulder in embarrassment. “Strangely, he didn’t ask me out after that happened.”
Beth blinked at me, then threw back her head in raucous laughter.
I chuckled at her mirth.
For someone so outwardly elegant and classy, she had the most guttural, dirty laugh I ever heard.
She wiped her eyes with her napkin. “Oh, Avery. Only you. What am I going to do with you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, Beth. I’m not like you. Sex, for me, is private and—” I waved my hand around, trying to find the right word.
“Non-existent,” she finished.
“I’m okay with that.”
She regarded me fondly, then shook her head. “I worry about you sometimes. You’re such an introvert.”
I smiled, brushing off her concern. “I get out, Beth. I’m not the social butterfly you are, but I don’t sit in my apartment all the time.”
“I know that. You take care of all your elderly neighbors. You run them around, take them grocery shopping, help them in their homes. But I’m not sure that is enough.”
My throat tightened. “I like doing that. I’m comfortable with them. They make me feel needed.”
“I know. But who is looking after Avery?”
“I’m fine.” Wanting to get the focus off me and back onto less personal ground, I changed the subject. “How’s work lately? You’ve been so busy, I’ve barely heard from you.”
“I know. This latest assignment has been driving me crazy. There’s a ton of paperwork and the interviews have been endless. I just want to get in there, then film and put it together.”
“What is—” Her phone vibrated on the table cutting off my words.
She looked at the screen, mumbling a curse. “Sorry, I need to take this call.”
I dug back into my salad while she answered the phone. I pushed through the lettuce and tomatoes looking for more of the grilled chicken, coming up with one tiny piece. Grudgingly, I speared it with some lettuce, ignoring the tomatoes. I didn’t like tomatoes. And really, why call it a “grilled chicken salad” when there was scarcely any chicken? It should be called “big bowl of salad with a teasing glimpse of chicken.” I pushed back the bowl, not wanting any more.
I studied my best friend as she spoke on the phone. Beth was tall, elegant, and refined; at least until she opened her mouth. Her long hair was a deep chocolate brown, hanging to her shoulders in smooth waves. Her makeup was perfect, her hazel eyes piercing and shrewd. She was passionate, driven, and talented.
However, at the moment, she was also incredibly pissed off.
“Fucking great,” she mumbled, tossing her phone on the table. “I swear the stress of this shoot is gonna kill me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Another volunteer canceled. We’re set to shoot tomorrow and I’m down a person.”
“Surely you have backups?”
“That was my final backup.”
I patted her hand. “You’ll figure something out. You always do.”
She stared at me for a moment, nodding as if she had made a decision. “I need a favor.”
“What?”
“I need you to be my replacement volunteer.”
“What would I have to do? Help cart stuff?” I had done that for her on previous occasions. It was always fun.