Sincerely, Carter (Sincerely Carter #1)(22)

“That is hands-down, the worst explanation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the truth. Next time you take a shower just jump up and down in the mirror and compare how your boobs—what little you have of them anyway, move compared to hers.”

“I’ll definitely let you know. What about her butt?”

“Arizona! Carter!” Her mom called up the steps and I exited the site, handing the phone back to Arizona. “Both of you come down here and help me put up the groceries! And yes, Carter, you’re required to help since you eat your fair share of them every week!”

I rolled out of bed and pulled her up.

“Okay, wait. I have a confession,” Ari said, crossing her arms. “I’m insanely jealous that you had sex before me. There. I said it.”

“I’d be jealous, too.” I laughed. “But you want that whole Prince Charming-stars-in-your-eyes fantasy for your first time, remember?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Just keep watching porn until you find the right guy in real life, and you better tell me when it happens.”

“I will.” She opened the door. “Always.”

“But if it doesn’t happen, I can always give you a sympathy f*ck…That’s what a true best friend would do.”

She slapped the back of my head and pushed me out of the room. “If we ever did sleep together, I would be the one giving you a sympathy f*ck…”

Track 8. Both of Us (4:21)

For the past few years, I’ve honestly tried my hardest to land a female best friend: Somebody I could get my nails done with, somebody I could talk to while obsessively discussing every detail of a date gone bad, and somebody I could point out a hot guy to and say, “Hey…I wonder how big his cock is…” with no judgment whatsoever.

Yet, every time I tried, one of three things happened:

1) The trial-BFF wanted to bring Carter everywhere with us just to get close to him, not me.

2) She was only using me for something school-related. (I still felt violated by trial BFF Carla, who apparently only wanted to be my study partner because I brought home-baked snacks to every all-nighter… “No snacks, no friendship”)

3) She turned out to be Nicole, the girl who was currently standing in front of my full-length mirror.

Dressed in a thin white dress that stopped mid-thigh and left little to the imagination, she was flat ironing her hair for the umpteenth time, making sure it was absolutely perfect…for a house party.

We’d met in one of my business classes last year, and I thought it was such a good sign since we had the same boring major in common. Until she dropped out a month later and told me, “I was only taking that class to get close to that football player. Did you know he’s going pro in the fall?”

Still, I clung to our fast-flame friendship—texting her small bits about my life, asking for hers in return. We did meet up to get our nails done every other weekend, and she never did judge me when I said, “I wonder how big his cock is…” because she wondered, too. But that’s where her potential BFF qualities ended.

Even though she was nice and gave pretty sound advice from time to time, she was always flaking on me at the very last minute, always meeting some new guy she “had to experience.” If we hung out for something other than nails or drinks, that usually just meant parties. No studying. No late night obsessive chats about guys. (I mean, although I could tell Carter anything and everything, I still wanted someone who could better relate from a female point of view).

“Why am I still trying?” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s that, Arizona?” Nicole set down the flat iron.

“Nothing. We should probably leave soon, though. There isn’t much parking at their place.”

“Oh…” She looked over her shoulder. “You’re ready to go and you’re wearing that?”

I looked down at my pink tank top and khaki colored shorts. “Yeah. Why?”

“It’s a party, Ari.”

“A house party. There’s no need to dress up like it’s a real club.”

“I couldn’t disagree with you more,” she said, walking over to my closet. “You’ve got way too many good options in here to show up looking like a hillbilly.”

“Are you aware that your pink thong is showing through your dress right now? What little of a dress you have on, anyway?”

“Duh! That’s the point!” She laughed and pulled a short red dress from my closet. “This is perfect.”

“The last time I wore that, I was a freshman. I highly doubt that I could fit that tonight.”

“Let’s hope you can’t!” She tossed it to me. “The tighter the better.”

Holding back my words, I shut myself in the bathroom and took off my original outfit. I pulled the four year old dress over my head and smiled when it actually fit. (Well, if I sucked in my stomach a little.)

“How’s this?” I stepped out for her approval. “Better?”

“A hundred times better…And it’ll be two hundred times better when you let me do your hair and make-up. God, Ari! No makeup before going to a party? House party or not, you can’t be serious…”

I bit my tongue once more and sat on the edge of the bed, letting her turn me into her personal Barbie. She dusted my eyelids with a shimmering shade of pink, plucked a few errant eyebrow hairs, and coated my lips in a deep, sultry red that complemented my dress.