“Holy shit!” she shrieked, tearing off her “Princess” eye mask. “What the hell is it? You scared the crap out of me, Emma.” I was totally giddy—I couldn’t even get my thoughts out in full sentences. “I gotta talk!” I squealed and jumped into her bed. “Last night! Vodka! Hot guy! Coworker! High heels!” The story came tumbling out in fragments and spurts as Rachel wiped the sleep from her eyes and tried to keep up. Rachel took a few secs to prop herself up in bed. “So wait,” she interjected, trying to connect the dots. “You went out with Jayla and had plums and then you met some old guy who used to be your boss?” “No, Rachel, goddamn it, keep up.” I pulled myself together a little and started from the top. “The club was called Plumm and he’s not my boss, he knows my boss. And he’s so hot, I can’t even stand it. He’s a walking streak of foxiness! And now I’m freaking out because what if I see him at work? He’s going to know that I’m not a junior media whatever and that I’m not twenty-two and I’ll be completely screwed.”
