“Uh, yeah.”
“Holy shit!” She sets her glass down and grabs the edge of the coffee table. “What if you two are related? And not like me and Buck—all step-sibling and stuff. Like, it would be weird but okay if we hooked up, but you’d be for-real brother and sister. We could make a reality TV show out of this.”
“Randy’s dad isn’t my dad.”
“How do you know?”
“Because his name isn’t on my birth certificate.”
“What if it’s a fake?”
“Violet, you’re being an asshole,” Charlene says.
“My dad’s last name is Head,” I say.
“What’s his first name? Dick?” Violet asks.
“Actually he goes by Richard.”
“Are you serious? Your dad’s name is Dick Head?”
“If he went by Dick, yes.”
She’s silent for a few seconds, then she starts laughing hysterically. “Oh my God, that’s priceless.” When she calms down a bit, she holds up a finger. “So if you and Randy ever got married, your name would be Lily LeBlanc Balls. Lily White Balls!” She falls over laughing.
I want to find it funny, but I can’t. Instead I’m sad. “Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.”
We get super hammered and ring in the New Year with champagne. I get two messages at midnight: one from Benji telling me he misses me and another from Randy saying he wishes he was inside me. I can’t pretend it doesn’t make my chest ache when I realize all over again that that’s where this whole thing starts and finishes.
***
Turns out Alex doesn’t give me a choice about whether or not I’m doing the job interview. He sets it up for me and tells me when I’m disgustingly hungover that I’ll need to be at the arena the following morning.
Randy and I spend the majority of New Year’s Day in his bed. I’m not in very good shape, so we don’t have much in the way of sex. Instead, I drink ginger ale, and we cuddle. Things feel off. Or maybe I’m off because I’m hungover.
The next morning while I’m getting ready for my interview, I spot Randy’s defaced pink boxers on the bedroom floor. I snatch them up and shove them in my bag while he’s in the bathroom. I don’t know why, or maybe I do. This week has been amazing, but this thing with Randy is getting too big. I want more than he says he has to give.
Alex picks me up to take me to the interview, and Randy tongue-fucks the hell out of my mouth before he lets me get into the car. I have to go home tomorrow—possibly to pack up my things—so he’s taking me out for dinner tonight. Which, to me, sounds and feels like a real date. I didn’t mention that to him.
“I know it’s none of my business—” Alex says as we pull away.
“It’s just casual.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure. I wouldn’t move to another country for a guy, Alex. I was with Benji for seven years. I’m having some fun, and Randy’s a fun guy.” The words sound flat.
“And he feels the same way.”
“Yeah. He feels the same way.” I poke the fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror.
“You’re sure about that, too?”
I think about the message from New Years. And about how deep I’ve gotten myself in. I’m going to get my heart ripped out. “Yeah. I’m totally positive. Can we talk about something else? Like this interview? I feel unprepared.”
Alex drops the subject and tells me what to expect at the arena. It’s been a long time since I’ve done an interview. I’m legitimately nervous, but I must do okay, because they offer me the job on the spot. Randy’s plan to keep me to himself is overruled as a result, and we end up going out for dinner to celebrate with the whole group. It’s almost a good thing, because now that I know I’m moving to Chicago, I have to do something I’ve been holding off on.
After we eat, Sunny and Miller go back to his place, which gives me and Randy the entire night to ourselves at Sunny’s. It will be my place, too, in three weeks. That’s how long I have before I start my new job, in my new city.
Except I don’t want to move here and keep doing what I’m doing with Randy. I’m not good at casual. I know that now. I keep seeing how in love Violet, Sunny, and Charlene are. I can invite him in tonight, but it’s not going to help anything. I’m still going to feel the way I do, and I’m still going to be just the girl he fucks. Like a champ. It’s the perfect scenario for someone who isn’t me. I should have told him this wasn’t working for me ages ago, but the sex part was working so well I didn’t want to. I think I’m going to throw up.
Randy parks in front of the house and cuts the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he starts to open his door and then realizes I’m not moving. He cocks his head. “What’s up? Why you still sittin’ there? I bet I can have you naked in, like, under a minute once we’re inside. Unless you’re feeling like street sex is more your speed tonight.”
I half-laugh, but the twist in my stomach makes it sound fake.