Page 4 of Let's Talk About Love

“I thought things were good between you. Did she say why?”

By the grace of all things floofy, she managed not to start grinding her teeth.

“That bad, huh?” Moschoula asked, eyebrows raised. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. But thank you.”

Moschoula was more of aHey, let’s watch the first three seasons ofAmerican Horror Storyin one weekendthan aHey, my heart hurts. Please listen to me and make me feel betterkind of friend.

“Are we still on for Friday morning?” They had lived two rooms apart in the same dorm, two semesters in a row. Moschoula had volunteered to help Alice load up her rented moving truck, but couldn’t help unload. She had a plane to catch for a summer vacation on some wondrous island paradise.

“Yeah. Those boxes aren’t going to move themselves. I appreciate you, your time, and your manpower in advance.”

“You can appreciate me by ordering anchovies on the pizza you bribed me with.”

Alice’s face pinched in disgust. “But they’re so salty and taste like ocean. Why?”

“It’s what I want.”

“Well, I want you to fit me into your suitcase, but you’re not even willing to try.”

Moschoula tapped the back of Alice’s hand. “It’s good to see you smile.”

“Only for you.”

“You know my girlfriend hates it when you say things like that to me.”

“Adoration and continuous compliments are how I express my affections.” Alice rolled her eyes. “And it’s not like I say it in front of her. There’s literally nothing to be jealous of.”

Moschoula sighed. “I think she just wants you to, uh, compliment her, too.”

“Oh.” Alice pursed her lips. “I thought she didn’t like me, butI think I can arrange that.” The alarm on her phone beeped: her ten-minute warning before her final class started. She lived (and thrived) by the constant alarms she set for herself throughout the day. If it weren’t on her calendar to remind her, she would most likely forget to do the thing. “I feel like throwing up, to be honest. On top of everything else, I’m about to fail this math test. Finals are absolute murder on my digestive system,” Alice said, packing up.

“You got this. I have full faith in your mathematical abilities. Walk you out?”

“No need. Hug me, please?”

“Always.” Moschoula gave great hugs. Just the right amount of pressure, none of that awkward back patting, and she always smelled like lemons. “I’m going to miss you when I leave.” She pulled back. “Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Great. Now I want chocolate. And Fizzy Lifting Drink.”

“Good luck on that last one.”

“All those juice bars sell edible grass now, so it should be on the way. Some scientists somewhere will figure it out soon.” Alice laughed for the first time in seventeen hours and twenty-nine minutes. It was small, barely more than an amused chuckle, but it was there all the same. Thank God for her friends. What would she ever do without them?

(God willing, she would never, ever have to find out.)

CHAPTER

3

“I don’t understand how you have so much stuff. You had half a room. Half!” Feenie complained, pulling her long blond hair into a ponytail. “You knew how small it was in here.”

Alice had met Serafina (Feenie if you knew what was good for you) on the first day of kindergarten. She had walked right on up to Alice, offered half of her cherry Fruit Roll-Up, and kindly and without preamble declared herself Alice’s best friend.

(Obviously, the title stuck.)

“It’ll all fit,” Alice said. “My dad got me these cool floating shelves and stackable storage bins.”