Rosie: I can come by your apartment, bring the caffeine to you. In one hour? Thirty minutes? Now?
I could picture my friend batting her eyelashes at me. Rosie had never drilled me so hard for a story.
Lina: I’m not at my apartment.
Rosie: Still at the airport? I can come by later. Just give me a time.
Taking a deep breath, I typed my answer.
Lina: I don’t think I’m going back to my place tonight.
Those three dots bounced back to life on the screen. She typed and typed and typed. For a stupidly large amount of time. I frowned at my phone, bracing myself.
Rosie: I KNEW IT.
A strangled sound climbed up my throat. That’s all she was typing?
Rosie: SO? Spill it. Type it, so I can tell you that I saw it coming.
I chuckled under my breath. Had I been that blind?
Lina: …
Rosie: SAY IT. SAY IT OUT LOUD. Say. It.
Lina: Chill, Edward Cullen.
Rosie: Catalina, if you don’t start talking, I’m going to get pissed. And I never do. You still don’t know what a pissed Rosie looks like.
Lina: Aaron’s. I’m at Aaron’s apartment.
Rosie: Of course you are. I want to know the rest.
Lina: The rest?
Rosie: A condensed versi
on—for now.
Lina: We sort of kissed. Kinda slept together.
Rosie: SORT OF? KINDA? What does that even mean?
Lina: *eye roll emoji* We did. Kissed. Had sex.
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