Avery

I should have known Rory coming down to help me move wouldn’t come without a hundred questions and tequila shots.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t realize it. Like...it was a shame that nobody had hooked up with Daddy Graham after all this time. What is the actual point of having a friend with a hot dad?” She sucks the lime into her mouth. We’d spent the last two days moving and had actually put a decent dent in my apartment. I have a couch, my bed is set up, and I have WiFi so everything else can wait as far as I’m concerned. My mom left about an hour ago after neurotically organizing my kitchen, and we’d opened a bottle of wine and then switched to tequila right after.

I’m lying flat on my back on my couch with my eyes closed, with an eye mask resting beneath my eyes in hopes it will get rid of the dark circles brought on by staying up all night packing and crying all week. “How pissed is he?”

Rory, who’s sitting on the floor in front of me, takes a bite of the sausage pizza we order