'Oh, boy, I can't believe I didn't get her number~' I heard a familiar voice rumble through my bedroom wall, immediately jolting me awake as the door to the dormitory was slammed closed. I sniveled and wiped my surely bloodshot eyes, glancing up at my laptop's screensaver.

Ugh. Where was I, again? Oh, right, dorm.

What was the point of announcing her entrance like that, seriously? So, she met someone while out on some revenge bender? So what? It wasn't my problem, was it?

How was I going to apologize to her while she was in this state? Was she trying to make it hard for me? It was already hard enough as is, but what was the alternative? 

Even if she didn't need me, I couldn't let her be hurt and get herself into such messy flings like this. She'd just keep hurting if I didn't at least try to make it up to her. 

It was then that I heard Alda collapse onto the couch in the common room, before she let out her not-so-glamorous snore that seemed to thunder through the walls. Valid. 

Pushing myself up off my under-bunk desk, I spooled the wad of golden hair out of my mouth, and I checked my phone. Around two o'clock, and Alda had only just gotten back. 

She probably really wanted to avoid me, and I couldn't blame her. She may have been acting out and behaving like a mess right now, but I was the one who'd messed up so bad it snowballed into seven years of unspoken resent. 

If anything, I was the mess. It was evident enough by the fact I both never wanted her to see me again, and couldn't help but slink out of my room to glimpse her in all her disheveled glory. 

A buried memory suddenly resurfaced as I stepped into the hallway. I giggled to myself. That's right, whenever we'd stay at each other's she'd always snap a picture of my sleeping face, and mock me as a "sleeping beauty" when I woke up, while I begged her to delete the photos. 

Now I honestly hoped she didn't.

With that, I tiptoed out into the common room and peered over our single, grey-cushioned sofa. She hadn't even turned the TV on.

There she lay, her floral dress draped around her and pooling off the couch, and her neck smattered with red... hickeys? I leaned in. Lipstick marks, but with...

I inhaled a shuddering breath, trying to ground myself. 

She was sleeping, but her snoring was so loud that whatever could squeeze its way out of me wouldn't have any effect on her. I'd known this woman to sleep through thunderstorms and rats crawling in the ceiling. 

'Hahahahahaha! Oh, my God,' I whispered, trying to catch my breath as I broke out into a round of small laughing fits. As I thought, not a stir. 

'I can see the knuckle prints...' I tittered, leaning closer to her neck and examining the markings. 

'I was so, so wrong about you, Alda Hernández... you really do put in the work,' I smiled down at her, my face softening as I took in her image. She'd tuckered herself out from scheming, and it was categorically the cutest thing I'd ever witnessed. 

I could've sworn I'd seen a smile cross her sleeping face.

It was then that I noticed a small slip of paper poking out of the front pocket of her purse. 

Had she gotten some girl's number after all? Or was it just Kelsie's? 

Either way, it was likely a prop to add to her performance. Just there to get a reaction out of me, but was it a plot of vengeance, or of something else? 

It was best that I didn't interact with it, is what my logical mind told me.

I reached for the slip and furled it into my hand. What exactly had she planned?

As I turned the paper over in my hand and revealed the contents, my face dropped into a disappointed, yet tender, frown as I rolled my eyes. 

It read "50% Off the Coffee & Cake Combo at A Byte of Pi Internet Cafe."

Of course it did. She hadn't even gotten drunk, let alone went clubbing with cute girls. 

'Hehehe... scheme for a scheme, dearest Alda,' I snickered as I grabbed a pen off the coffee table and scrawled my own phone number on the blank side of the coupon. Not that she'd know, given our seven years apart. 

For all she knew, maybe some poor girl actually had slipped their number onto her internet cafe coupon.

It was time for a game of chicken.

Ok, now to look up how to "sext" before immediately clearing my search history. How hard could it be?

But first, I'd need to play the waiting game.

● ● ●

'Ah, what smells a lot less like rotten fish?' Alda remarked as she stirred from her resting place on the sofa. 'As in, what smells really good, and not in the horny way,' she clarified, stretching out her arms with a snap, crackle and pop.

'French toast,' I replied from the kitchen, flipping a slice of sugary, eggy bread in a frying pan as I glanced over at the sleepy, lipstick-covered girl. 

Frankly, I thought the very amalgamation of eggs, bread, sugar, salt and milk was an afront to nature, but I wagered that Alda would eat the lot. So, I was making six slices. 

I'd probably only help myself to one, just for the nutritional value of breakfast.

'How- how'd you make the time- don't we-' Alda stammered, clearly bewildered, as she peeled herself off the sofa.

'Nope, no classes Tuesday, so I got some groceries while you were recovering from your hangover,' I informed her, trying to purge the sarcasm from my voice with the last part.

'Hangov- oh, yeah, right-' Alda stuttered before quickly reminding herself, scratching the back of her head.

'Which is lucky for you because you either look like a whore, or like you got mauled by a wolverine,' I remarked, and Alda just scraped at one of the lipstick marks with her nail.

'So, playa~ It's certainly a shame this "girl" didn't leave you her number,' I mocked, feigning ignorance as if I were digging for some kind of rebuttal from Alda.

'Ah, oh- ah- yeah- about that- oh!' she sputtered as she took a seat at the counter, her eyes suddenly landing on the "prop" that poked out of her purse I'd left on it for her; sure to make it as visible as remotely possible.

Alda promptly nicked it held it up victoriously, the coupon side facing her while she pretended to read the number, invertedly waving my own number in my face. She was none the wiser. 

'Guess I did get her number, after all!' she boasted as she wiggled the small slip of paper. 

'Wrong side, Alda,' I sneered at her, generating a small spinning gesture with my finger.

'I know that- I was just flaunting it,' she lied, turning the paper around in her hand. Her eyes widened, as she looked as if she had begun to question the very nature of her outing.

'You look kind of flustered there, Allie. What, does her number contain 80085?' I teased, softly gazing at her as she stared down at the coupon, her mind clearly going a mile a minute.

'I'm... gonna make the first move, me thinks,' she murmured, frantically typing into her phone. My own phone promptly buzzed in my back pocket, and I swear I saw Alda's mouth twitch.

No, I am not answering that. I resumed the French toast preparation, which was complete in about five minutes. 

I laid Alda's stack of five French toasts out before her, and she took a big whiff before she spoke next. 'Tal, I think I'm gonna come~ How the fuck did you remember I liked this?' she moaned jokingly, before her tone turned to amused curiosity.

'Remember? You used to force my mom to make this for us all the time, the taste is practically ingrained into my brain as a form of sensory trauma,' I simpered, leaning against the counter in a flannel apron I'd bought from Walmart for a buck-eighty. 'You know, ever since that day, when I got home from school my mom would accidentally make you a slice... she did it a few times, actually,' I recalled, and a sad smile crossed my face as we each fell silent.

To cast aside the sudden silence, Alda began to ravage her stack of French toast. It was certainly a sight to behold, for lack of a better phrase. 'Ugh, it's melting in my mouth. Tal, I want you to sit on my face- I mean make this every day~' she moaned through a mouthful of egg and bread.

'You're pretty direct for the girl who should hate my guts, you know,' I pouted, crossing my arms over my apron as I averted my gaze. My face was burning so hot I thought it would blow off.

'You forced my mouth open when I smelt food this morning, that's all,' she protested, voraciously sliding another slice of toast into her gaping maw. I was certain she could fit a whole fist in there if she tried. 

While she seemed distracted, I decided to skulk into the bathroom and pull out my phone. There, I read the two new messages from an "unknown number," and I couldn't help but stifle a giggle. The first read "Heyyyyyyyy," with a performatively slutty amount of Ys, and the second read "You the busty brunette from Chick-fil-A????' Chick-fil-A? She was so bad at this it made me feel about ten times better about my own inexperience.