Page 76 of All That Glitters

Tony gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze and sat back down.

“I guess the negotiations worked,” Tony said.

Carrie nodded. “I should probably forgive them for blowing me up, shouldn’t I?”

Tony laughed. “They’re good to have on your side in a jam, that’s for sure.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A rapid succession of notifications lit up Tony’s phone on the coffee table. Carrie glanced over at him. His face had already adopted the familiar, slightly pained expression she now knew so well.

“Let me guess,” she said, not needing to ask. “Debbie again?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, picking up the phone. A cascade of tagged photos appeared, all of Debbie on a date with Jeff in a movie theater.

“Same guy?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s the other guy I gave her number to. Did I mention I’m an idiot?”

Carrie looked from the phone to Tony’s frustrated face, and a decisive, mischievous gleam entered her eye. “Okay. That’s it.”

“What?”

“We’re fighting back,” she declared, standing up. “Operation: Make Debbie Wildly Jealous is a go.”

Tony looked up at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s playing checkers; we’re about to play chess,” Carrie announced. “We are going to post a picture of us. Kissing. A deep, passionate, ‘this is the love of a lifetime’ kind of kiss.” She started walking toward her bedroom. “Just give me a couple of minutes to do my hair and makeup and put on something nice.”

“What for?” Tony asked.

“Ahem,” she said, gesturing to herself in the sweatpants and ponytail. “This.”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“What’s right with it?” she said.

“Everything. Look, I know you’ve convinced yourself you need all that stuff for your superpower to work, but you don’t. Your superpower is the you I’ve gotten to know these past couple of weeks. The part that’s funny, and smart, and creative, and protective of her friends. The rest of it’s just decoration.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. The noisy, insecure thoughts in her head went quiet. He wasn’t just placating her; he believed it. Every word.

“You really believe in me, don’t you?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I do,” he said simply.

“You’re gonna make me cry, too, aren’t you,” she said, a warm smile sparkling in her eyes that had grown misty.

He smiled. “Probably. You ready to ‘out’ yourself?”

She blinked back the tear and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.” She took a deep breath. “But if this Debbie girl doesn’t see these pictures, realize she’s in love with you, and immediately dragyou to the altar, I’m personally going to fly to San Diego and hit her.”

He laughed, a sound full of relief and gratitude. “Deal.”

“Alright, Hollywood,” she said, stepping closer and striking a dramatic pose. “Get ready for my closeup.”

She cupped his face in her hands, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and they angled themselves toward the phone’s camera. It was a perfectly staged, melodramatic, soap-opera-worthy kiss for the lens. But underneath the performance, in that small, quiet moment, was the solid, undeniable truth of their friendship.

Tony, holding the phone out, snapped the shot. Without a second thought, he posted it to his Instagram, the caption simple and deadly.