Willa & the Extraordinary Internship

CH. 3

"You're kidding," Maryam Abrams said in disbelief. "He actually stole a kiss from you?"

    "Raunchy," Cyn grinned, digging her hand into the newly-opened bag of hot Cheetos. "Are you going to see him again?"

    "He seems to think so," Willa half-wailed, pressing pause on the remote just as Liam Hemsworth came onto the screen.

    The three girls were sitting in a semi-circle in front of Maryam's television, leaning against her furniture with their legs sprawled over blankets on the floor. Snacks ranging from sweet to spicy were scattered in bowls between them and each girl had a steaming-hot mug of hot chocolate in their hands.

    "Hey!" protested Cyn through a mouthful of cheeto. "We do not pause the DVD when Gale Perfect Bum Hawthorne is speaking."

    "Zip it, Cyn," Maryam admonished. "Willa, what about your self-respect? I mean, how could you just continue to sit there after he called you a deadbeat loser?" She pulled a yellow pillow with a bulldog wearing glasses emblazoned on the front off her couch, fluffed it a bit, then placed it behind her back.

    "He didn't actually use those exact terms," Willa frowned. "Although now I'm wondering about what you actually think of me!"

    Maryam scowled at the same time Cyn snorted. "Are you seriously going to throw a pity party over the fact that someone actually called you on what is, essentially, the truth?" Cyn said incredulously. "It's like, uncool to be unsupportive, and that's why people don't say half the things they really feel."

    "We don't think that," Maryam stressed, hand frozen in place over a bowl of honey-roasted peanuts.

    "Look, Willa, it's just a home truth, okay? It hurts because he called you on your whole 'I am a writer, hear me roar' manifesto, but that doesn't mean what he said was invalid," Cyn said in a gentle (well, as gentle as Cyn could be) tone. "This guy is probably the best thing for you. I mean, he's even doing the same master's program as you did. It might be better for you to hang around someone who wants the same things out of life that you do."

    "Being a CFO, CEO, or CIO is not what I want out of life."

    "Then show me a single thing you've written," Cyn challenged. "I always wanted to be a makeup artist and Maryam knew she wanted to be an financial planner and we've actually taken steps to getting there. You literally just rot away at Grimsby's like some kind of basement dwelling Orc or something." Cyn made no secret of how she felt about most things, and Paige Grimsby's basement office was one of those things.

    "Are you seriously using my favorite movie to insult me?" Willa's eyes narrowed. "And it's not a basement, ok, it's her office at the university and I'm actually learning a lot." Lie. Unable to resist, she added, "you do vlogs on Youtube on how to smear gunk on your face and bartend at one of the skeezy college bars part-time. Like what you do is soooo hard."

    "I get paid!" Cyn snapped. "Tips. Advertising. Goddamn it, Wi, why do you act like I'm out to get you? I'm your fucking friend."

    "You guys, stop," Maryam interrupted. "We came here for a slumber party like we used to do in college, and we're already fighting? I for one want to get through our stack of movies and junk food in peace. If you wanna hurl word grenades at each other, wait until I go to the bathroom or something," she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

    Just like that, the situation was diffused.

    Nothing bugged Willa more than having to let go of an argument that she hadn't decided to give up on her own terms, but for Maryam's sake, she pressed play. Cyn's lips were compressed into a thin, mutinous line as she refused to look at the screen, instead scrolling through her iPhone in a sulk. So much for movie night, Willa thought, feeling grubby and worn, like the dog-eared, well-loved pages of her favorite book.