“Bianca, get out here!” Tasha yelled from the living room.

I opened my door just a crack. “Give me five minutes. I just got out of the shower.”

My already speeding heart rate quickened as I dropped the towel and stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. It wasn’t a lie, I had just gotten out of the shower ten minutes ago. But I’d already applied my makeup, going intentionally heavier on the eyeliner and mascara and gotten dressed – or half-dressed anyway. In just a bra – the black lacy one I’d accidentally given Court a glimpse of that first night – and a pair of jeans worn with holes and permanently stretched out from wearing them so much, I tried to remember everything Court had told me about sexting.

No vag shots. Gross, that definitely wasn’t a problem.

Keep it vague.

What else had he told me?

I pulled my comforter taught, giving the appearance of a made bed and laid on top of it holding my camera above me. I angled it left, right, up, down – ugh, how the hell had Court made it look so effortless?

I snapped a few photos, trying to capture the same pose Court had. I didn’t see the appeal of a little cleavage and bare stomach, but he had told me guys were always up for sexting, so I couldn’t go wrong, could I?

I selected the best of the photos and sat up in my bed to come up with a message to go with it.

Me: Whatcha doing, handsome?

I jumped off the bed after I pressed send and pulled a tank top on over my head. Court and I had continued talking every day. My days started with sending him a good morning text and ended with him telling me good night and sweet dreams over video chat. It had been awkward initially, to treat him like someone I was dating, but he’d been right – it had made me feel more confident. Court was a fun fake boyfriend. And now I was ready to conquer sexting.

My phone rang with an incoming video call and I smiled as I answered. “Hey.”

Court’s face filled the screen. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and, as usual, my stomach flipped at the sight of him.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he crooned above the background noise.

I couldn’t make out his location, but it was loud.

“Hey,” I repeated self-consciously.

His eyes wandered down to my now covered chest. “Looks like I missed the free show.”

“Ha. Ha. So, how’d I do?” I bit my lip nervously.

“Perfect.”

I grinned wide, mentally giving myself a gold star.

“If you were a dude and trying to send a chick a picture of your non-existent six pack abs.”

Okay, so no gold star.

“Take your shirt off and stand in front of a mirror.”

My face must have shown the panic I was feeling.

“Relax, 8B. You can keep the camera pointed at your face. I’ll walk you through it.”

Awkwardly, I pulled the tank over my head with one hand while I kept the camera pointed away. I brought the phone back up to my face as I stood before my mirror.

“Okay.”

“Alright, 8B. Ever heard of T and A?”

“Umm, what?”

He chuckled. “Tits and ass. These are the two focal points you want to remember when sexting. Okay, now, position yourself so that you’re standing not quite perpendicular to the mirror - let’s call it forty-five degrees since I know you’re going to want specifics. Now turn your upper body, without moving your feet so that your chest is square with the mirror. Got that?”

I did as he said feeling more like a contortionist than a sex object. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Now pop that booty out by tilting your hips toward the ground.” He nodded as I manipulated my body around.

“This is ridiculous. What am I hoping to accomplish by standing all awkward and twisted around?” I tried to focus on moving my hips and lifting my butt. My side hurt from holding the position and I felt utterly ridiculous. And then… “Oh my God.”

I had a waist – a small one and my boobs were on display without outright flashing them and somehow my mostly non-existent butt looked perky and round.

“You’re a genius,” I said as I let the camera fall so he could see at least a portion of the result.

Court’s expression grew serious. “You look gorgeous. You are gorgeous. Good job. A-plus. When you do it for real, try it with something that shows off more leg.”

I ignored everything but the praise. Gold star.

“Alright, thank you, Yoda. I gotta go study. Talk later?”

He nodded. “Later, 8B.”

I’d planned on sending the image to Todd after it got the Court seal of approval, but it was going to have to wait for when I had more time. I slipped back into my tank and headed out to the living room where Tasha waited for me.

“Finally. I thought you’d fallen asleep in there.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m here.” If only Tasha knew what I’d been doing, she’d have high-fived me instead of giving me a pouty look. But she’d also demand to know every detail, like she did every time she caught me and Court texting or talking, and I wanted to keep some of it just for me.

“Ready to study for your interviews?”

“Ready.”

Twenty-five minutes later, my mood sufficiently deflated, Tasha was still drilling me with questions.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I stared blankly at Tasha as she read the interview question from her laptop. We were sitting on the couch in our living room, legs tucked up underneath, so we could face one another as she attempted to prepare me for my interviews tomorrow. Tasha had already accepted a job offer in New York with an art gallery she’d interned with last summer. A friend of a friend of a family. It helped to know people – especially in a city like New York.

“These questions are dumb,” I groaned. “I have no idea where I’ll be in five years until I figure out where I’m going to work.”

Undeterred by my pessimism, Tasha read the advice listed on the screen in front of her. “Talk about what type of responsibility you want – leading projects or teams, mention any certifications or additional degrees you’re interested in obtaining.”

“All of that. I want all the responsibility they’ll give me, but I mean come on, it’s an entry level job.”

The truth was, I did have an idea of what I wanted, but I was skeptical that any of it really mattered for the purposes of the interview. I could tell them I planned to be the first female president and they’d probably just nod and ask about my previous experiences.”

I stood and headed for our small kitchen, grabbing two waters from the fridge. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about applying to the master’s program here for next semester. Just in case a job doesn’t work out.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Technically, yes, but Dr. Hassup loves me so I think he might be able to pull some strings.”

“I don’t understand.” Tasha closed the laptop halfway and peered over at me. “I thought you were excited about graduating and moving back to the city to be closer to your mom – to your whole family.”

“I am. I just want to explore all my options.”

Tasha crossed her arms over her chest and glared, not moving even to take the water I offered.

“It could be good to get a master’s – more opportunities, higher pay. My mom is doing well, and I could still visit and eventually return there,” I finished and set the water on the coffee table in front of her.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Todd staying here for med school, does it?”

“What? No, of course not.” It was a perk, I admitted, but not the reason.

“Just… please make sure you’re keeping Todd completely out of this decision,” she said as she uncrossed her arms. The look of annoyance had left her face and was replaced with something that looked like sadness or pity. “Do what’s best for you. And perhaps consider what’s best for me – having you with me in New York.” She looked up at me with a hopeful smile.

My phone beeped with an incoming text, saving me from hashing out future plans. I needed time on my own to think, weigh the pros and cons, analyze.

“It’s Todd. They’re going out. He wants me to come meet up with them,” I said happily.

Tasha waved at the computer in her lap. “I thought we were prepping for your interviews.”

“We did. I’ll be fine. Seriously. I do some of my best work under pressure.”

It was a lie and she knew it – or at least an unproven theory. I was never unprepared, but I was less concerned with my interviews than I was with the idea of trying out my potential girlfriend moves on Todd.

“Come on. Come with us. I miss hanging out. We have less than a month until graduation and I feel like I’ve barely seen you this semester.”

I’d played to her guilt and I could tell it was working by the way she bit back a smile.

“You’re not wearing that, are you?”

I rolled my eyes and went in for the kill. “Come on, I’ll even let you dress me.”

As I’d expected, her eyes lit up. “Where are they going?”

Thirty minutes later Tasha and I were on York Street just after ten o’clock. It was early by college standards, but the bar was already packed. I pulled at the hem of the too short dress while trying to keep myself upright on heels that were five inches higher than anything I usually wore. Maybe letting Tasha dress me had been going too far. She could pull this off with a confidence and general bad-assery that I didn’t possess.

“How are we supposed to find him in here?” I shouted above the noise. We pushed through the crowd and stood sandwiched in at the edge of the bar.

“Hey,” Tasha grabbed my elbow and gave it a little squeeze. “Chill out. We’ll find him. Let’s grab a drink and try and find a table.”

I nodded as the bartender hustled in front of us asking our order while walking away. I was only half-listening as Tasha gave her our order. I scanned the crowd looking for Todd or his friends. They were a large – as in muscular – and loud group so I didn’t think they’d be too hard to find. A peek at my cell revealed no new text messages and I refrained from sending one that made me look overly eager. I was, but I could almost hear Court’s voice telling me to put away my phone and have fun.

Tasha handed me a glass and I took a sip of the rum and diet concoction as we squeezed away from the bar looking for a table. I continued my perusal of the place, spotting a few alumni in the crowd, in town for the career fair, no doubt.

We found a table near the front of the bar next to the karaoke table with an ear-piercing closeness to the speakers. Currently there was a trio of girls belting out Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. I had twenty bucks that at least one of them ended the night tangled up with the very man she was singing about. No one sang that song with that much passion unless they were still hung up on someone.

“Stop it,” Tasha said, snapping my attention back to her. “He’ll show. Until then…” She raised her glass and a smile pulled at her lips.

“Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass against hers.

I gave up the look out and focused on Tasha. We drank. We caught up. We laughed. God, how we laughed.

“I miss this,” I said after our second drink.

“Well if you take a job in New York, we could keep rooming together and we’d be able to spend a lot more time together once our evenings aren’t filled with homework and cramming for tests.”

“What about Lance? I thought you two would be shacking up together?”

“He hasn’t asked yet, but even if he does, New York is expensive. The three of us could get a place.”

Almost before I could give her my best no way in hell face, she continued. “I promise it wouldn’t be weird.”

“Says the girl who wouldn’t have to listen to her best friend getting it on.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Tasha’s gaze went past me, and I used the opportunity to check my cell again. Still nothing.

“There is an insanely hot guy at the table behind you. You should go introduce yourself.”

“Okay first off, I can’t just walk up to some random guy and make casual conversation and second, I’m meeting up with Todd.” I resisted looking behind me knowing it would only encourage her more.

“Oh please, there’s no harm in some flirting and this guy, trust me, he’s worth getting out of your comfort zone. Besides, Todd has made no claim over you. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” Tasha said as her eyes went wide. “That’s good, put that on your list!”

Before I could protest, Tasha was up and pulling me behind her. My whole body warmed as I kept my eyes focused down on my drink. I was grateful at least that I had a fresh one. I fidgeted with the straw as the chatter at the table died down at our approach.

“Hello, boys,” Tasha said by way of greeting. “I’m Tasha.” She bumped her shoulder against mine, making my drink nearly tumble out of my hands. “And this is –”

“8B.”