Roll the Dice

twenty-seven. sit down, you're rocking the boat

[Dedicated to the victims of the horrible attacks in Paris yesterday, November 13th. My thoughts are with them and the nation of France. #PrayforParis]

"Hey, do you have any lemonade?" Dacey called over my shoulder into the kitchen, where Cara currently had her head buried in her refrigerator. "With every second you stall, my mouth is dying and shriveling up — hey!"

I'd elbowed her (and not even with that much force), and when she sent a look that would shrivel my face, I raised my hands up defensively. "What? You can't order someone around in her own house."

Dacey pouted. "I'm a guest here, and besides, I'm gonna make the most of my dominance over Cara because that bitch" — there was a muffled protest from the kitchen — "owes me a ton." Dacey crossed her arms over her chest. "Also, I almost never win bets with Cara, so basically, I'm going to have the time of my life."

No one ever won bets with Cara (except when she wasn't in the right state of mind, or, in simpler terms, drunk), so I really had no idea why Dacey kept insisting on betting against her and moaning about her losses every single time she got her ass whooped. I patted Dacey's shoulder. "Kudos to you for finally toppling the aristocracy," I said, eliciting the most self-satisfied smirk I'd ever seen in my life from Dacey, "but you're stupid."

Dacey's expression dropped. "I so am not!" she spluttered, scooting away from me. It wasn't like she could get far anyway since the couch wasn't exactly the longest piece of furniture that I'd ever seen. "I have a perfect right to feel like the overlord of the world!"

Well, Dacey was right in that she had a reason to feel good about herself since Cara was kind of undefeatable when it came to bets...but she really was getting annoying. "Shut up," I told her again.

"Stop bickering, children," said Cara, who came into the living room with two glasses of pink lemonade, presumably, and set them down on the coffee table. "You're both giving me a massive migraine, and I don't think I can stand any more shouting this week."

I sat up immediately, claimed a glass before Dacey could even sit up properly, and sent Cara a honey-sweet smile. "How was the internship? Aren't you, like, super glad that you're almost done with getting people their coffees?"

Cara rolled her eyes at me and plopped herself down right in the middle of me and Dacey. "That wasn't all I did all day, you know." She grabbed the other lemonade glass, leaving Dacey to pout on her other side. "I learned a lot, and I'm glad I got the opportunity to learn everything that I did, such as —"

"I hate it when you start sounding like you're quoting straight out of a brochure," Dacey whined. "And why didn't you get a third glass for me?"

"Because I couldn't hold it," Cara responded flatly. She turned back to me. "But anyway, you really should do an internship next summer." She wiggled her eyebrows. "You'll have a life-changing experience."

"Wait," interrupted Dacey before I could even open my mouth to say something. "Lottie already had a life-changing experience."

When I turned my head to regard her expression, I knew immediately that she was going to say something snarky, stupid, annoying, and totally irrelevant. I held up a finger, opened my mouth, and prepared to shoot out a Guys and Dolls quote (because Guys and Dolls applied to everything, of course)—but of course, Dacey was a fast talker.

"Someone finally had the guts to tell her to shut the fuck up about Guys and Dolls!" Dacey continued, her expression devilish, like she knew that even the most indirect reference to...Dom would send me into a furious blush.

"You're rude!" I protested, completely aware of how my cheeks practically felt like furnaces. "And he never told me to shut up; he just didn't understand how important the musical was and thus kept trying to distract me from the topic."