“I’m just trying to put it in some perspective,” Dakota said, “because, you know, I hate Eric and I am trying to explain why he does not matter in a new way. For example, you spent more time making out with Josh than you did Eric.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Scarlett said. “It’s not just how much time you put into it.”
“When did you guys make out again?” Chloe asked. “I forget.”
“Last winter break,” Scarlett said. “And it was different.”
“It was three times or something,” Josh said.
“Right,” Dakota went on. “And notice how that didn’t make you crazy? That is because Josh is a good guy, and Eric is a cheat and a sneak. He is a bad man. Everyone hates him. You have to get in line to hate Eric Hall.”
“He’s not a cheat,” Scarlett said.
This conversation was a minefield, and with those words, she lifted her foot off a pressure device. Dakota was now set on ticktick-boom.
“Let’s break it down step-by-step,” Dakota said. “Shall we? Eric made out with you while he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend of two years, down in…wherever it is he comes from. South Carolina or whatever…”
“North Carolina,” Scarlett said, feeling the need for the facts to be accurate. “And I didn’t know about her.”
“No. Of course you didn’t. He made sure you didn’t. Because he was cheating on her. With you. And do not…” Dakota held up a finger on this. “…do not give me this stuff about how he really felt bad about it and how he was going to break up with her but he just wanted to wait until he got home. Do not.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, sounding very bored that this was happening again. “Don’t.”
“I’m not even thinking about him,” Scarlett lied. “You don’t have to…”
“Do you want to know how I know you’re thinking about him?” Dakota cut in.
“Nope,” Scarlett replied honestly.
“Because I checked that link to his commercial that you sent me. Remember how you said you were the only person who ever really watched it and how you were embarrassed because the view count was going up really fast? Well, it was at 356 two days ago, and now it’s at 512.”
Scarlett felt her stomach lurch. She had made one of the most basic of life errors, and she saw it immediately: Never give anyone evidence of your crazy.
“I watched it…a few times,” Scarlett said, looking down. “You don’t know it was me.”
“It’s a pizza commercial. You were the one who said you were afraid he’d notice because you were the only person in the world who would watch it besides him.”
“Some people really like pizza,” Scarlett countered. “And I’m wrong a lot. Can we be done now? There’s a bee on your drink.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Chloe was chiming in. Scarlett loved Chloe dearly, but she was a notoriously flirty and flaky dater. She had gone through a total of four “relationships” over the summer. As far as she was concerned, the average life cycle of a couple was a week. If they were very serious. Taking relationship advice from her was like taking flying lessons from a kamikaze pilot—someone who thought the only way to land was nose-first into the ground.
“Why don’t you call him?” she asked. “Why don’t you go and see him? Sometimes you just need to make out one last time to get it out of your system. I’ve done that.”
“Do. Not. Do. That.”
That was Dakota, of course.
“I’m always here,” Josh added.
Scarlett’s problem—the ruling issue of her life right now, her secret inner turmoil—had become a conversational Frisbee. Something to toss around on a bright summer’s day when there was nothing better going on.
“I’m making a new start,” Scarlett said again.
And then, of course, the phone began to ring. She had set it on the blanket beside her. Dakota got to it first and snatched it away.
“Who is it?” Scarlett said anxiously, her voice betraying her.
“It says ‘AAA,’” Dakota replied. “AAA? American Automobile Association?”
Sadly, many people made this mistake. They had been getting a lot of calls from stranded drivers recently.
“Give it,” Scarlett said, holding her hand out.
The phone rang again.
“Who is AAA?” Dakota asked, holding the phone back a bit.
“Just give it to me for a second…”
The phone rang again.
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s my boss,” Scarlett said with a sigh.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Dakota stuck the phone under her leg. “Not her, either.”
“You don’t understand,” Scarlett said. “You don’t know what she’s like. Just let me call her and she’ll calm down. It’s only been three days since she moved out of the hotel. She has separation anxiety.”
“That doesn’t mean she can call you every ten minutes to do something stupid while she’s out getting her butt waxed.”
“Thanks for that mental image,” Scarlett said. “That’s something she might do, if her butt was hairy. Which it probably isn’t…Great. Now I’m imagining it. Remind me to repay you.”