Page 87 of Wrecked

“No,” Jessica chimes in, her voice distraught. “I want the nachos with extra cheese and sour cream. And I want a vodka, straight.”

“She’ll have a Sprite,” Suzanne states.

“Adam broke up with me,” Jessica says as she lowers her shoulders. “I want to drink away my sorrows.”

“You’re being a tad bit dramatic.” Suzanne is being uncharacteristically dismissive.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Why the hell would he do something like that?”

I could punch him. I could punch myself. I could punch Suzanne for that look she’s giving me.

Placing a hand on Jessica’s shoulder, I give it a rub. “You are too smart and beautiful to waste a moment moping over some guy.”

“Whatever. It was only those two dates. Not like I was in love with him or anything. I just hate the thought of being dumped. It sucks, you know?” Jessica says.

I shake my head. “McConaughey is right.”

“Oh, boy,” Suzanne says, putting her menu down.

“Here we go,” Jessica adds with a sigh.

“‘The male is always the pawn in a romantic comedy. Come together, break up, go chase her, get her, roll credits,’” I quote the legend. “Why do men get to decide how our romances play out? They are the ones to ask us out, they choose where we go on dates, and they’re the ones to decide when it ends.”

Jessica sways as she answers, “Well, not really. It was my idea to go bowling.”

I ignore her. “I’m sick of it. Sick of being held hostage by when he’s gonna show up and if he noticed the perfume I put on or how the yoga pants I’m wearing say Sexy—and if he actually finds my ass to be sexy enough to grab—and if he’s watching me the same way I’m staring at him because, even though there are secrets to our past, I can’t stop looking at him and wondering what our future could be like if things were different.”

They’re gaping at me like I have three heads.

“I’ve never worn perfume specifically for a guy,” Jessica says.

“My ass is too big to have anything written on the back,” Suzanne adds.

With a huff, I turn around and head to the bar. I grab a bottle of vodka and make Jessica her drink. When I get back to the table, the two are mid discussion.

“I wouldn’t call it being dumped. Like you said, it was only two dates. You never even kissed him,” Suzanne says.

I nearly drop the glass.

“What about at the camp?” I ask incredulously. “You shared a tent.”

Jessica shakes her head. “No. He slept in a sleeping bag outside. I was by myself. Kinda knew something was off. I thought it was because of the fight you two had in the woods, but it turns out, he was never planning on sharing a tent with me.”

I told the girls Adam and I had an argument. Then, I went right into my tent, not coming out until it was time to pack up the next morning.

“Yeah, that must have been some fight,” Suzanne says in a manner that means she doesn’t believe it was a fight at all.

I take a sip of Jessica’s vodka drink. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

She eyes the glass that is currently on the rim of my mouth. “I’ll take a Sprite.”

“Oh.” I hold the glass up and shrug in an apology. “Sorry.”

“I want to go dancing,” Jessica announces. “The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.” She waggles her eyebrows.

Suzanne lowers her chin. “I thought you were in mourning.”

“I am,” Jessica declares. “How’s Thursday? I won’t be mourning by then.” She looks at us with puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Leah. I know you’re not working on Friday morning.”