The Duet(24)

When I crawled back into bed later after I’d washed my makeup off, I found a text from Cammie waiting for me.

Cammie: Thanks for the food. We were all about to turn into zombies.

Brooklyn: I hope you got enough.

Cammie: Yeah — two of my classmates fought for the spring rolls though.

Brooklyn: You guys need to eat more. That’s not right.

Cammie: It’s like a rite of passage to be a starving grad student.

Brooklyn: Oh whatever. If you lose any more weight, I’m hooking an IV up to your dumb workstation.

Cammie: Awesome. Let’s put chicken noodle soup in it and we can hook a straw up to my mouth.

Brooklyn: You.Are.So.Weird. PS. I have a writing date tomorrow morning with Jason.

Cammie: What is a “writing date”?

Brooklyn: Oh, I just meant we’re going to try to write together tomorrow morning.

Cammie (1): Oh okay. So not a date at all, you liar.…..He’s so hot. I don’t even know how you’re going to sit by him for that long. Those lips. That voice. Sometimes he takes his shirt off on stage

Cammie (2): because he’s hot and it’s just too much to wear a shirt. Poor guy, wouldn’t want him to get overheated. Will you take a close up picture of his eyes so I can see what they look like?

Cammie (3): I think they’re like a rich dark brown but it’s hard to tell.

Brooklyn: OMG. Stop. You’re blowing up my phone with texts about his dumb eyes.

Cammie: fine. Night. Let me know when to expect my chicken noodle soup IV. PS. Wiki says his eyes are brown. Mmm like Belgian chocolate.





Chapter Eight





I woke up the next morning to a text message from Cammie that included a Photoshopped picture of me and Jason. The little devil didn’t have time to go get dinner, but she apparently had all the time in the world to whip up prank photos. I glanced down at the photo in its full-color HD glory. There was Jason performing on stage without his shirt on, just like Cammie told me he was wont to do, except she’d cropped me into the photo in a compromising pose. I was bent forward, licking Jason’s sweaty chest while he kept right on singing. I had no clue where she’d found that picture of me, but I suspected it was from one of our nights where we stayed in and had one too many bottles of wine. After much deliberation, I decided to keep the photo saved to my phone just for research purposes. Of course.

I didn’t bother texting Cammie back because the message would have just been filled with random curse words and a suggestion of where she could shove a pineapple. Instead, I stretched out in my comfy bed and then I pushed out from beneath my warm blankets to start the day. I knew it was going to be chilly, so after my shower, I wrapped myself in another sweater and paired it with jeans and heeled ankle boots.

When I journeyed downstairs after getting ready, I found the house deserted, save for the delicious aroma of fresh coffee. That smell was like my crack and it pulled me toward the kitchen where I found a note from LuAnne propped up on the counter.

Made you some breakfast. Help yourself, love Lu. PS. There’s a bottle of Bailey’s in the fridge…in case that’s how you roll.

I laughed and placed the note back where I’d found it. The universe would have loved for me to get drunk on my morning cup of coffee. It would have given Jason one more reason to hate me. He’d be trying to write a song and I’d be throwing up on his carpet. Classy.

In the fridge I found a bowl of fresh fruit and on the counter under a tiny heat lamp, there was a plate piled high with bacon and sausage. I loved meat as much as the next girl, but if I started each day off with bacon while in Montana, I’d be heading back to LA in a pair of Derek’s XL sweat pants.

After I’d gathered all the essentials, I sat down at the table where LuAnne and I had eaten dinner the night before. In the morning light, the view from the kitchen windows was even better. As I ate my breakfast, I peered through the glass and noticed there were several paths that led from the base of the house up into the forest. Maybe after lunch I could get in a decent hike.

Maybe I’d find a wilderness man chopping down wood topless and he’d need water. I’d, of course, give him a sip of mine and we’d strike up a conversation about how we’re both dog lovers, but our lifestyles never allowed us to get one of our own. We’d fall down into the brush of the forest and we’d make love to—

“Morning, Brooklyn.”

Oh God, I nearly choked on the piece of fruit I’d been chewing while fantasizing. But I recovered nicely, and by the time I turned around to see Derek piling his plate with food, I knew my face wasn’t as bright red as it’d been a moment before.

“Hi Derek,” I said with a welcoming smile.