The Duet(12)

As soon as I arrived inside my condo, I pressed my back to the door and scanned my living room. It was gorgeous, all whites and creams with plush furniture and bright light-blue wallpaper. I knew I wouldn’t be in that condo forever, but it’d been home for the past three years and in a world that was constantly bustling around me, it felt good to have my little sanctuary.

“Whattup, sis,” Cammie called from the kitchen, slamming the refrigerator door.

Well kind of a sanctuary.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had that design class?” I asked, dropping my purse on the front-entry table and kicking my shoes off.

When I got closer, I realized Cammie had a plate piled high with hummus, pita chips, carrots, and celery. It was enough food to feed five people.

“Yeah, that was like four hours ago,” she answered.

Oh, right.

Cammie lived in the dorms on campus, but whenever she could get away, she stayed at my condo— which lately had been more often than not. I knew she was feeling the pressure of transitioning from student to full-time employee in the coming months. She probably wanted to be somewhere that felt constant whenever she could. Also, she really enjoyed stealing my food.

“Bring that over here,” I said, falling back on the couch. “I haven’t had food all day.”

“Because you were boning the model and slept in?” Cammie said, dipping a carrot into the hummus and popping it into her mouth.

“Yes,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Poor Jorge,” she said with a wicked smile.

I laughed. “Don’t you worry about ol’ Jorge. He got enough fruit to last him a year.”

“What does that mean? Is fruit slang for anal or something?”

I spit out the pita chip I’d just put in my mouth and it landed with a thud on my pristine carpet.

“Cammie! Jeez.”

That only made her laugh even more. I think she lived to give me a heart attack.

“Relax,” Cammie said. “I know that you and underwear boy didn’t go that far. I just wish he was a little better in the sack.”

“It’s just… have you ever had sex with a Brazilian underwear model and thought, ‘Seriously, I thought this would be better’?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

I laughed at her dry retort. “Okay, well, it was terrible. No tingles, no fireworks, and definitely no happy ending.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” I shrugged. “I’m over it. From now on, I’m just going to think of other things to do with my vagina.”

“Yeah, you could probably store your receipts in there,” Cammie joked.

I held my hand up to stop her from expanding on that subject. I’d like to keep my morning coffee in my stomach, thank you very much.

“If I make a phone call will you stay silent or should I lock you in the bathroom again?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You called Channing Tatum, and I made sex noises in the background. Seriously, how was I supposed to resist?”

I shot her a blank stare and she held up her hands in defense.

“Look, I’ll go grab my laptop and do some work while you make your oh-so-important phone call.” Yes, she put air quotes around oh-so-important.

“Good,” I said, taking a deep breath and reaching for my phone on the coffee table. The sooner I called Jason, the sooner we could move on and get started on this dumb project.

My fingers shook in the most annoying way as I scrolled through my contact list trying to find the M’s, but I did my best to ignore it. Coffee always made me jittery anyway.

Jason Monroe.

There he was.

I had a sudden urge to program the devil to appear whenever he called me, but then I remembered that he’d never call me so it’d be a waste of time.

“Are you going to make a call or just stare at your screen like a weirdo?” Cammie said, plopping down next to me with her MacBook.

“Oh, I was just trying to make sure I knew what I wanted to discuss before I pressed send,” I replied, defending my awkwardness.

She replied with a “mmhhmm” that only sassy grandmas could truly get away with. I hit send and then held the phone to my ear. One… two… three rings passed before the call clicked on.

“Jason.”

That’s how he answered. What was I supposed to do with that? Just say my name back too?

“Uh, Jason, this is Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn who?”

Oh, c’mon. How many people did he know named after a borough in New York?

“Heart,” I replied with a sharp tone.

“How did you get this number?”

Cammie scoffed next to me, and that’s when I realized that the little snitch had her ear pressed to the phone on the other side of me. Oh well, it’d save me the trouble of telling her how rude he’d been as soon as I hung up.