Sex Says(40)

“Gross,” Laura mumbled and I chuckled.

“Seventeen million views?” Cam exclaimed. “Holy fuck!”

Laura reached over and pinched his nipple, and Cam tried to squirm away.

My mom smacked my head as I picked up a cigarette and lit it in the video. “Still smoking and doing it in your apartment! What’s wrong with you?”

“I enjoy it, and I do what I like in my own apartment. I don’t do it in yours,” I explained patiently.

“I’m your mother!”

“Hush, Linda,” my dad ordered. “I can’t hear the goddamn video.”

As I spoke, I heard the words I was addressing like a song in my mind. Lola’s voice and fervor as I imagined her saying them—and the way she reacted to mine.

The rest of their commentary faded out as the woman who inspired the video took up every corner of space in my mind and chest. Her quick wit and quirky smile and the way she’d been wound up as I left her apartment to head here—but mostly, what I was going to do to make sure I saw her again.

And soon.





I tossed a few goldfish crackers into my mouth and stopped mid-chew when I felt like I was being watched. Out of my periphery, I discreetly glanced toward Louie’s aquarium, and I could tell he wasn’t happy. His little fish eyes were pointed right in my direction.

Shit. I probably needed to rethink my snack food selections.

Eating actual goldfish—even if they were of the cracker variety—probably came across as a bit morbid to my finned roommate.

I made a mental note never to buy these crackers again, and when I thought a little harder about it, marked Swedish fish off my snack list, too.

“Sorry, dude,” I offered an apology as my eyes met his.

He gave no response.

Yeah, definitely pissed off. But who could blame him? He might’ve been a smart aleck, but it didn’t give me the right to spur paranoia that I’d one day turn cannibalistic and eat him for lunch. Actions spoke louder than words, and I’d get into Louie’s good graces again by going cold turkey on all foods that resembled him.

My phone vibrated with a text, and I opened up the never-ending group message with two of my girlfriends.



Abby: Ummm… Who the fuck is this Reed Luca guy?



Jen: Whoever he is…he’s not hard on the eyes. I mean… Holy hell…



Sigh. Everyone in my life had seen the asshole’s YouTube video, which was why Jen and Abby had been prattling on about it for the past twenty minutes.

With my feet propped up on my couch, I groaned. Reed Luca had even found his way into conversations with my friends. He was a real thorn in my side.

I loved Abby and Jen, I really did. They were two of my closest friends whom I’d met when we were freshmen at UCLA. Back then, they had been your typical California girls—bubbly, blond, blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin—and I was the weirdo in Doc Martens and baby doll dresses. I’d gone through a bit of a grunge nineties phase during my first two years of college.

We’d met at a house party, and honestly, it was still a tad of a mystery how we’d become friends. But somehow, my eccentricity meshed well with their conventionality.

And it still did, despite the fact that I wasn’t digging their current choice in conversation topics revolving around the one guy I’d rather fucking forget about.



Me: I hate Reed Luca.



Jen: I’m not sure I could ever hate a guy with those blue eyes…



Me: Enough of the ellipses, Jen. We get it. You think Reed Luca is sexy.



Jen: Tell me this… Do you think Reed Luca is sexy?



Me: That’s beside the point. He made a YouTube video that bashed my column. It went viral. Gained national exposure. And now, he’s writing an opposing column with the Journal. Reed Luca can lick my asshole.



Abby: So, you think Reed is sexy AND you want him to lick your asshole?



Me: The moral support occurring within this group text is staggering. I mean, honestly. I’m overwhelmed, guys. You’re the best.



Abby: Sorry, Lo. I take it back. Reed Luca is a dick. I hope his penis shrivels up and he never has sex again. I hope he sits on a parking cone. I wish him one hundred years of no sex and acne.



Jen: I wonder what Reed Luca’s penis looks like… Like, it can’t be small…



Abby: Jen, you’re not helping.



Jen: What? It was a simple question.



Me: Can we talk about something else besides Reed Luca? I feel like this guy is trying to ruin my life but, like, also won’t get out of my goddamn lifeboat. For the love of God, change the subject or I’m ignoring you guys.



Abby: Fine…um… Simone is back in town.



Jen: Oh. No.



Me: How do you know?