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Amanda showed up around noon.
“Seriously,” she said, doing a belly-flop onto my bed. “What was all that?”
We’d already talked about it some on the ride home, but with Jordan in the car we couldn’t really cover everything to our satisfaction. There’s a lot of history he knows nothing about. And I’m happy to keep it that way.
Amanda lifted her head and looked at me. “You shouldn’t sleep in your makeup—it’s bad for your skin.”
As if I cared about my skin. I felt like I’d been crushed in a trash compactor. My head hurt worse than in the early days of caffeine and sweetener withdrawal. My body felt exhausted and diseased. I don’t really do well with confrontation.
We spent some time cataloging the night: my bathroom revelation about Matt, my breakup with Greg, my fight with Matt. It wa
