“I’m just saying,” Jen continued doggedly, “That if you ever sleep with my brother, it’s over. We’re done.”
Inhaling deeply through her nostrils, she looked around the room for a few seconds, letting herself process this new and, very late to the party, facet of Jen’s personality. That annoyingly correct, inner voice was screaming I told you so. The move had been too flawless. Even their furniture had gotten along. Her red plaid couch had combined with that hideous, green, recliner much better than she had anticipated. Both of them had looked at the combo with surprise. Then they laughed until tears ran down their faces, discovering they were each prepared to verbally crap on each other’s style choices.
Setting her cup down on the so-last-decade coffee table, she stood and picked up her sandwich plate to take it to the sink. Her parents were night owls, they would still be awake at ten thirty. She could feel Jen’s eyes burning into her back as she left the room.
“Alyssa? Where are you going?”
Maliciously she jangled her keys, making a bit of a production out of gathering her jacket and bag. On impulse she turned to face the kitchen doorway, knowing Jen would be standing in it.
“Look, it’s been great and all but, really, I’m not prepared to have someone play judge and jury over my past and make me feel bad about stuff all over again.” Her stomach lurched a little as Jen went pale, sensing her intent. She had been so cute! That bobbed red hair that swooped a little across her forehead was so damn attractive.
“Jesus Al, it’s not even that serious.”
“Not that serious?” She locked onto Jen’s eyes, mentally drawing crosshairs on them. “That particular expression is used abusively by people who don’t want to take responsibility for what they just did!” Grabbing the doorknob, she wrenched it open and felt cool, fresh, night air pouring in.