Broken Juliet(58)

“For crying out loud, Cassie, I’m going to start calling you Charcoal.”

Exasperation is leaking into Ruby’s tone, and even over the phone, I can imagine her eye roll.

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re playing with so much fire, you’re going to be incinerated.”

We’ve been on the phone for more than an hour. She’s told me all about a guy she met over the summer, and after she assailed me with far too many details of their sexual exploits, she started grilling me about Holt. To say she disapproves of our arrangement would be a massive understatement.

After Ethan and I started hooking up, I tried to keep it a secret from her, but everything went south a few weeks later when she came home unexpectedly to find us naked in the living room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ruby so angry. She stood there and ripped into both of us. Didn’t even let us get dressed, just stood there yelling while Holt and I did our best to cover ourselves with throw pillows.

After that, she didn’t talk to me for two days. She was mad about me getting back with Ethan, of course, but I think she was even madder that I lied about it. Ever since then, I’ve vowed never to keep stuff from her, which kind of sucks, because when she asks me if I’m having feelings for him again, I have to tell her the truth.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She makes a disapproving sound.

“What am I supposed to do, Ruby? Cut off all contact?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying to be careful. If you can’t handle being straight up f*ck-buddies, then maybe you should cool it for a while. I mean, he hasn’t magically lost all his baggage, has he?”

“No, but he’s the one who started texting me. I’m not making any moves here. I’m just reacting to his.”

“That’s going to be exactly zero consolation if he gets scared again and bails.”

“I know. But he seems … different. Bolder. Happier. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose I can’t complain too much. You have been a lot less mopey since you started banging him. Although, you owe me money for all the condoms you’ve stolen.”

“I’ll pay you back. Plus, I’m on the pill now.”

“Really? So you two can bang bareback? Great. Can’t wait to walk in on that.”

“I’ve apologized for that a million times.”

“Doesn’t erase the mental images.”

“We weren’t even having sex.”

“You were about to. By the way, did I ever congratulate you on Holt’s cock? I meant to. Very nice. One of the nicest I’ve seen, in fact.”

Despite my newfound sexual confidence, I still manage to blush. “Well, with the sheer volume of cocks you’ve seen, that’s a huge compliment.”

“It sure is. Huuuge.”

We both laugh. I miss her so freaking much.

Unfortunately, I still miss Ethan more.




It’s Friday night, and the diner is packed. I’m getting slammed from every side, and although I like to think I can handle it, I’m getting more frazzled by the minute.

“Order up!”

I swipe hair away from my forehead and hurry to collect the plates from the pass. Back and forth. Smile and drop.

“There you go. Enjoy.”

The dinner rush seems to go on forever, and by the time I get a break at eight forty-five p.m., I’m exhausted and starving. I grab a burger and head out the back door to eat it. My phone buzzes with a message.

<Had a great idea today. Made up a T-shirt that said, “I got boned at The Museum of Natural History.” Took it to Threadless & made a million dollars. Avery bought a dozen. Dropping out of drama school to become creepy bar-hopping douche who marries hotel heiress & becomes famous for his giant schlong in grainy sex tape. It was nice knowing you. Sincerely, Ethan (aka The T-shirt Baron).> I laugh and shake my head as I text back.

<Hate to burst your bubble, Baron, but Chandler from Friends came up w/that quote years ago. Guess you’ll have to stay in trenches w/the rest of us plebs. Sucks to be you.> <Fuck. Ok, plan B. Get own reality show & get arrested for DUI. Then wait for movie offers. Gotta go. Booze to drink. Easy chicks to bang. (Just kidding. Only easy chick I’m banging is you. Well, not right now ‘cause you’re on other side of country, but … when you get back. Yes?)> Goddammit.

How the hell do I reply to that?

<Maybe.>

<Don’t tease me. It s cruel. Just say yes. Or, f*ck, yes.> And I’m back to laughing.

<Fuck, yes.>

<**(Pretend I’ve invented fist pump emoticon & insert here)** See you in 4 wks. I’ll be the one w/the massive boner.> He signs it with a smiley face with the tag, <That’s my **Looking forward to getting laid emoticon**> I laugh again. All of a sudden I’ve forgotten about the sweat running down my spine, the ache in my feet, and the smear of grill grease on the front of my shirt. Thanks to him, I’m smiling like an idiot, and when I go back inside, one of the other waitresses asks if I just got lucky in the parking lot.




My parents are yelling again. Bickering like children over inconsequential crap. Nothing. Everything. I’d go out, but as usual this summer, it’s raining. I put in my headphones and turn up my music.