Alyssa: Sad
Alyssa: (BUT I GET IT!)
Molly: Rich people are wild
Dezzie: Molly, are you behaving wildly out of character and having fun?
I take a selfie of myself in my huge shades with my margarita in hand and throw it in the chat.
Molly: Poolside, baby
Dezzie: Where’s your man?
Molly: Getting a massage
Alyssa: Getting along?
Molly: Mostly eating guacamole and fucking
Alyssa: STOP. I’LL DIE OF JEALOUSY.
Molly: He’s a little boring though. We’re running out of stuff to talk about
Dezzie: Talk about his abs
Alyssa: Or his penis
Molly: ALYSSA! When did you become such a pervert?
Alyssa: You do not even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Like five years. I’m not kidding
Dezzie: I think you’re forgetting you have a baby under the age of two, so that’s not possible
Alyssa: Immaculate conception
Dezzie: Wish that would work for me. I am so tired of having sex with rob for the purpose of procreation. If it doesn’t work soon I’m buying a turkey baster
Alyssa: It’ll happen
Molly: Keep trying!!! I need a mini dez
Alyssa: Or a mini Rob
Dezzie: LOL. An infant shuffling around in dockers and a concert tee from 2006? Can’t wait
Molly: At least you HAVE a rob. Honestly you guys, this trip has me wondering why all my best relationships are sexual
Molly: Like, seb is nice and I enjoy his company in small to medium increments but mainly he’s hot and we have amazing chemistry
Molly: I’m bored
Dezzie: I can answer that
Molly: Oh good
Dezzie: CUZ YOU AVOID DATING ANYONE YOU ACTUALLY LIKE
Alyssa: Not to mention when you accidentally do like them you break up with them immediately
I try to think of a sassy reply, but my text box is overridden by an incoming call. From, of all people, Seth Rubenstein.
I haven’t spoken to him since we saw each other in Los Angeles. I have, however, spent a generous amount of time spying on him and his beautiful girlfriend on Instagram.
“Hello?” I say.
“Molly McMarks?”
“Speaking.”
He chuckles. My mouth curves into a smile I can’t hold back. I love the sound of his laugh.
“How the hell are ya?” His voice is ever so slightly soft around the consonants. Like he’s tipsy.
“I’m a seven point five out of ten. Maybe even an eight.”
“That’s like a sixteen for a normal person.”
“Sure is.”
