myself, though; it was as if my mind had no control over my speech. I was suddenly eager to help Michael in any way I could, and apparently that meant inviting him back to my apartment.
“I—” he started. Then he paused for a minute, and I silently braced myself for rejection. “Amalia, I would love to come in for a drink. I could really use someone to talk to.”
“Great!” I said, a little too eagerly. “I mean, that’s cool. Let’s get going.” I tried to sound more composed, motioning toward the crosswalk.
He smiled and moved a bit closer to me. I immediately went weak at the knees. In all of my anxiety, I hadn’t noticed how great he looked until right now. Michael always dressed well but for some reason I took extra notice of his fitted black button-down shirt, dark denim jeans free of distress of any kind, and loafers to pull the look together. I realized I was still staring at him when he pulled me in for a hug.
“Thank you, Amalia. You’re a great friend,” he whispered.
I felt strong sense of disappointment and a little foolish as he let go of me. A friend? A buddy? Is that all Michael thought of me as? More importantly, why did I care so much?
“Oh my gosh how many times do I have to say this to you? Nothing happened!” I said for what had to be the third time in five minutes. Olivia and I had decided to grab a drink at Fat Black Pussy Cat after class that evening, and Cassandra insisted on coming along. Michael and Alex also jumped on the idea to drink away Dr. Van der Stein’s lecture on organic chemistry, and were meeting us soon. “Non capisco! I just don’t understand you!” Cassandra threw her arms up and shook her head at me, her chandelier earrings bouncing from side to side.
“Woah, was that English?” Olivia said with a huge smile on her face, obviously entertained by Cassandra’s latest outburst.
“Please don’t encourage her, Olivia,” I buried my face in my hands.
“You have this good-looking guy, alone in your apartment,” Cassandra continued to berate me, ignoring Olivia’s question. But before she could finish, I interrupted.
I held up my right hand. “Christina was home, we were not alone,” I said declaratively, as if that was some sort of justification for my lie.
“Oh really? Was she in the living room with the two of you? Or was she once again cooped up in her bedroom reading some obscure novel and being completely antisocial?” Cassandra cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
“Jeeze!” I shook my head.” First you attack me, now Christina?”
Olivia just sat there in silent bewilderment, her light-brown eyes as wide as possible. She had met Cassie several times before but was still confused by her boisterous demeanor. Olivia was the polar opposite of Cassandra and I. Being that we were both from Staten Island, Cassie and I prided ourselves on being loud, outspoken, and at times bitchy. Olivia on the other hand was from Providence, Rhode Island. Having only moved to New York four months ago, she was still quiet, polite, very shy, and free of any New York City-style dialect. She had attended college at the University of Florida. No city experience what-so-ever. Olivia had “newcomer writer” all over her. The only unpolished thing she did was smoke Newports. I found it to be very uncharacteristic of her, but it did give her a little bit of an edge. However, despite their differences, the two got along famously, as if they balanced each other out.
“Dire! Just answer the question!” Cassie demanded, her hazel eyes flashing.
Being that her grandparents were right off the boat from Italy, they demanded she learn to speak Italian and this she bestowed upon us when she was excited.
“Were you, or were you not, alone with him?”
I felt defeated.
“I was, alright, but nothing happened!” I said for now the fifth time. “Also, can we stick to English tonight?”
Cassandra smiled triumphantly.
Through all of my annoyance, I felt a smile tug at the sides of my lips.
“I’m going to slap you,” I said jokingly.
Olivia shook her head at the two of us, a wide grin decorating her face.
“I’m going to record the two of you and upload it when you aren’t looking,” she said laughing at us.
She reached into her gorgeous Michael Kors purse and pulled out her cell.
“Oh hey guys, it’s actually almost nine thirty. Michael and Alex are going to be here any minute, so maybe it would be a good idea to cap this conversation until tomorrow?” she asked.
“You know what?” I leaned forward. “No need to, ladies, because I am done pretending. Cassandra, you were right all along. We did it, Michael and me. We had hot, dirty sex right on my Ikea couch all while Christina was in the next room. It was amazing. I mean, it was the kind of sex you could only have when you’ve been stuck screwing the same person for years, boy did I let go of my inhibitions. Phew! Feels so good to get that off my chest!” I slammed my right hand down on the table, hoping this would finally shut Cassie up.
Olivia burst out laughing and then raised her glass of wine to toast me. Thinking I had finally silenced her, I shot Cassandra a look.
Cassandra gave me a blank, unamused stare, and flipped her hair back. “Fine, but Amalia, this conversation is not over. I’m heading to the ladies.”
She dramatically pushed her chair in and marched to the ladies’ room.
“C’mon! Champagne for everyone! Don’t you want to know if he wears boxers or briefs?” I shouted to her as she walked away.
Her three-inch heels clacked loudly on the bar’s old wooden floors. Every man at the bar turned to watch Cassie walk. Having come straight from her office, she was wearing dark-gray dress pants, patent-leather pumps, a bright-red button-down top, and oversized chandelier earrings. I had to hand it to the girl, she looked great. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about my own outfit, a dark-brown dress paired with gray blazer and a jeweled headband, I turned to Olivia. She was wearing a lime-green cardigan with a white camisole underneath, a knee-length black pleated skirt, and understated basic black flats. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a plain pony tail, minimal jewelry, and from what I could tell no make-up other than clear lip gloss. I couldn’t help but wonder if she felt underdressed. Before I could complete the thought, I suddenly felt two hands on my shoulder, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I quickly turned around to see who it was.
“I always say it, Hastings, you’re too highly strung,” Alex said, holding on to me tightly.
“Maybe it’s because of the lack of personal space I have in this bar,” I countered, as he continued to hold onto my shoulders.
I brushed him off, and wondered why Michael was friends with him. He and Michael had appeared out of nowhere wearing what appeared to be matching outfits. They both had on dark denim jeans, loafers, and button-down shirts with fitted v-neck sweaters over them, allowing the pattern of the shirt collar and cuffs to show. I pretended to be disgusted and dust off my shoulders.
“Hey you two,” said Michael, pulling an empty bar stool from a neighboring table.
“So how ridiculous was Dr. Van Der’s class today?”
“Oh no!” Cassandra said as she strutted back to her seat. “If you’re going to talk about class, I’m out of here!”
Cassandra was the only one at the table who did not currently take classes at NYU.
“Who