TITLE: Juniper Lemon's Happiness Index
GENRE: Contemporary YA
I check my phone again. Nothing.
“It’s the pants, the way they cling to him. Bulge in all the right places. His legs—”
“They’re like chick en.”
“—slender, sinewy thighs I could just—”
Oh my CHRIST. In the two and a half minutes we’ve been standing here, the women in front of me (at least twice my age, and probably a decade more) have gone from caressing their Hawk merchandise to cannibalizing it. Like it wasn’t bad enough finding half the school supplies plastered with Rush Hollister’s face—the key chains, the backpacks, the “I ♥ HAWK” pencil sharpeners—now my ears and helpless inner eye must bleed with this traumatic fanporn?
“—knife and fork and carve that glorious—”
I bury myself in my phone, willing reply texts to appear. I’m 98% sure that they won’t, but if I concentrate I can almost pretend I don’t hear words like “tender” and “cheek set” being slobbered in front of me.
When no new messages fly to my rescue, I thumb to the one I sent my supposed besties this morning instead:
Shopping at WA Square today. Want to grab coffee or cheesecake or something?
A simple invitation. No blame, no questions, no emotional outpour; just coffee. And/or dessert. But I review the words for the seventeenth time today and wonder if sending them was a mistake. Am I just making things worse?