“What underwear do you have on?” Jessie asks as I put the finishing touches on my soft-pink lipstick. Her question makes me jump, smearing it a little in the corner. Great, now I look like a toddler.
I look to where she’s leaning against the bathroom doorframe and huff out an annoyed breath. “Wonderful. Now I have to fix this.” Or maybe I should just take off the lipstick altogether? I’m not really a lipstick girl. I’m more of a swipe-on-some-mint-lip-balm-and-call-it-a-day kind of a person.
“Not my fault you’re jumpy about your undies.”
I rip off a piece of tissue and dab the corner of my mouth. “I’m not jumpy about my undies. I’m just jumpy in general. But to answer your question, don’t worry, I’m wearing something new, cute, and lacy under this dress.”
“Change it,” she barks, making my shoulders jump again.
Jessie is here because she’s quickly become my BFF in the cheesiest Baby-Sitters-Club sense of the word, and also because she’s going to stay here with Levi while I’m gone. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those terrible friends who begs her pregnant, miserable friend to watch their kid while they go have a good time. The dinner reservation is for 7:30, when I knew Levi would already be asleep (which he is currently), and I stocked my pantry with a wide selection of chocolate, candy, and potato chips. I bought a leopard-print Snuggie and tied a bow around it for her to find when she goes to the couch, and I also started a seven-day free trial of HBO so she can watch whatever movie she wants—basically, I’m a saint.
“Huh? Change what?”
“The lace. Get rid of it and replace it with something scratchy and old. Period panties would be preferable if you have any—and I know you do because every woman does. Bonus points if the elastic is worn out.” She turns around and goes to my dresser, rummaging through the top one, which everyone knows is designated for intimates.
I watch, slightly horrified at the intense set of her shoulders as she dives into my underwear like she’s searching for weird buried treasure. “Stop that! Are you seriously searching for gross old underwear?”
“Yes. Why would you think I’m joking?”
I go snatch away the especially unfavorable panties she has found and is brandishing like a victory flag. Her scary eyes tell me she might go plant them in Cooper’s front yard or something. “I can barely tolerate looking at these horrible things as it is. Why in the heck would I want Cooper to see them?! I don’t even think married people who’ve been together for decades let their spouses see them in something like this horror show.”
“Exactly.” Jessie rips the panties back from my hand. This is a strange game of hot potato. “Do you have an old bra to pair with these? Something tan with a wire poking out and a gaping cup, maybe?”
“Ugh, just stop,” I say, closing the drawer and only narrowly pausing for Jessie to extract her fingers. She deserves to have them chopped off for being the worst wingwoman in the history of wingwomen. “I’m not sure where you took your seduction classes, but I think you should get your money back.”
Jessie crosses her arms over her little baby bump and lifts a taunting eyebrow—no smile anywhere to be found. “I’m not your wingwoman tonight. I’m your wingclipper.”
“Oooh, how very Tinker Bell villain of you.”
“Lucy, you need to put your boundaries in place right now. If you’re not intending to sleep with Cooper tonight—and I don’t think you are, because you’re afraid to stand up to your brother—then you need to wear the most unappealing thing you can think of to act as a deterrent.”
My shoulders sink. “First, I’m not afraid to stand up to my brother. Cooper and I both agreed we didn’t want to get off to a rocky start with this relationship, so we’re waiting until the idea grows on Drew.”
Jessie has not been thrilled about our decision ever since I called her squealing and blabbering about it last night. “It shouldn’t have to grow on Drew. It’s none of his business.”
“It is his business. I’m his sister, and Cooper is his best friend. Our choice is going to affect him.” Even as I say the words, though, they don’t feel quite right. It’s bothered me ever since Cooper mentioned that Drew made this choice for me without my knowledge…like I couldn’t be trusted to make my own good decision. It also bothers me that Drew doesn’t see that Cooper is a good decision. I don’t know. I’ve never been upset at Drew on this level before, never questioned his intentions toward me, so part of me wants to take these uncomfortable feelings and bury them somewhere until I know what to do with them.
Another part of me, however—the side that’s learning to come out of hiding and go for the things I want—that part wants to tell my brother to stick his “good intentions” where the sun don’t shine and let me live my life. I think I would if it didn’t seem important to Cooper to gain Drew’s blessing. So, for now, I go along with the off-limits rule.
Jessie presses her lips together and shakes her head. “My pregnancy hormones are raging too much to have a conversation with you where you stick up for your brother’s bad choices.”
“You’re grumpy and need some chocolate.”
She narrows her eyes into slits. “No. I. Don’t. And I’m not grumpy.” She looks to the side, grinding her teeth into dust before she looks back to me. “But if I did happen to want chocolate, where would I find it?”
I bite down on my smile because I’m afraid she might punch me if she sees it. Pregnancy hormones should never be underestimated. “Top shelf in the pantry.”
She rolls her eyes because she’s now a teenager who’s committed to being annoyed with her parent even though they are doing something cool. “Okay. I probably won’t even want it, though.”
“Uh huh.” I step forward to yank my period panties out of her hand one final time then pull open the top drawer of my dresser, digging for my saggy, disintegrating, pathetic excuse for a bra. “You go and don’t eat that chocolate while I go change into my chastity belt.”
