Best Friends Don't Kiss(10)

Callie Camden-Baccus: And by the way, I was hopeful that you would be able to help plan the reunion but had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to handle it. It’s a HUGE responsibility, and you need to be really good at organization and management to deal with it. I know those have never been your strong suits, so I totally understand that you won’t be able to do it. Thanks for letting me know. And don’t worry, with my years of experience hosting and planning prestigious charity events, I’ll be able to get it all squared away! XOXO, Callie.



There are so many things inside this message that make my brain want to short-circuit.

Instantly, I’m pissed. Beyond pissed, actually.

Like planning a high school reunion is hard? Like it takes some kind of special skill and experience to make sure there are finger foods and a freaking veggie tray?

Get over yourself, Callie. Anyone can plan a reunion.

Before I can stop myself, I’m typing out a response to her bullshit.



Me: You know what, Callie? I just took another look at my schedule, and even though I am super busy with work, I’ll be in town for the two weeks prior to Kate’s wedding. I’m sure that’s more than enough time to help plan a simple reunion. So, scratch what I said earlier and count me in.



There. Suck on that.



Callie Camden-Baccus: Oh my goodness! This is great news, Ava! What’s your email? I will send over all of the details ASAP! And phone number too, just in case I need to call you!



I stare down at her last message.

Oh, holy shit. What did I just do? WHAT DID I JUST DO?

A boulder of anxiety and regret crash-lands inside my chest, and I give it a moment, just on the off chance it’ll actually kill me before I have to deal with the consequences of my hair-trigger reaction.

When I don’t pass out or pass on, I have no option but to scream my frustration into the ether of my apartment while typing out the digits of my number and my email.



Callie Camden-Baccus: Perfect! Expect an email from me by tomorrow morning!



“Aw, yay!” I mutter out loud to myself, mocking Callie’s superficially cheery, fucking phony demeanor. “I, like, can’t wait. It’s all so totally awesome!”

On a sigh, I close out of the chat box and toss my phone into my purse and get ready to finally leave my apartment for the night.

Thank God. This is way too much unnecessary stress on Halloween.

I only get two steps toward my door when my phone starts ringing from inside my purse. I dig it back out again to find an unknown number with a Vermont area code flashing on the screen.

I know I should let it roll to voice mail, but Aunt Poppy called me from jail one time, and I never heard the end of how I wasted her one phone call by not answering.

Reluctantly, I hit the green button and put it to my ear.

“Ava! It’s Callie!”

Damn Aunt Poppy and her fascination with streaking!

“Oh, uh…hi, Callie…”

“Sorry to bother you, but I had one more question to ask, and since I now have your number, I figured I’d just call you really quick!”

Greattt. “Sure thing,” I say with saccharine sweetness.

“Since I have to finalize the head count for the venue by tomorrow, I need to know if I should just put you down as a single,” she begins. “Pretty sure your mom told me you weren’t married or engaged or dating anyone, but I just want to double-check that you’re still single. Honestly, I think you’re one of only ten people from our high school that isn’t married yet!” she exclaims through an amused giggle.

I put my phone on speaker, drop it down on my entry table, and give it the double finger with as much gusto as I can manage.

Obviously unaware of my display, she continues. “So crazy that most of us have reached the age where we’re married, and some with kids now. Which, by the way, I can’t believe your baby sister Kate is getting married before you. Soon, you’re going to be the only single Lucie left!”

My tongue is tied by an imaginary angry fist, but it doesn’t matter. One of the only positive qualities Callie possesses is the ability to carry on an entire conversation herself.

“By the way, you’re the best for helping me plan the reunion!”

“That’s me.” The best people-pleasing lunatic in NYC who really should look into finding a good therapist to help me work through all of this before I have to head home to Vermont to watch my baby sister get married in the same week I get to attend a fifteen-year high school reunion I somehow got roped into helping plan. With the Regina George of my high school class. In less than two short months from now.

Okay. So, I don’t need to find a therapist; I need to find Jesus. I just hope he lives in Manhattan.

“So…one or two?” Callie asks, pulling me from the deep recesses of my thoughts.

“One or two?”

She giggles again. It’s like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. “How many people should I put you down for, silly?”

This is a remake of Nightmare on Elm Street; it has to be. A new Halloween movie or something. Michael Myers himself must be right outside my freaking door. That’s the only way the universe would be cruel enough to add Callie’s interest into the swirling, boiling pot my family already has roasting over the Ava’s Relationship Status fire.