I nodded, pretending to be fascinated. “So, if I go get you fries right now, you’ll feel better?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes...”

I stood. “Alright. I’ll be back.”

Beverly gaped at me. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” I said, heading for the door. “Don’t die before I get back.”

When I came back twenty minutes later, holding a plate of fries, and a chocolate bar I’d stolen from the pantry, Beverly gasped like I had brought her a treasure chest.

The room smelled like carbs, melted ice cream, and the faint floral scent of her shampoo. Clueless played on, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I started enjoying the ridiculousness of it.

Beverly was all about the fashion, though. Every five minutes, she’d comment on someone’s outfit, either hating it or calling it the “peak of ‘90s fashion”.

I absentmindedly undid the braid I’d done in her hair earlier, my fingers working through it as she sighed heavily.

“Men have it so easy.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“You don’t get periods,” she replied, gesturing vaguely. “You don’t have to deal with cramps, or worry about birth control, or pregnancy, or—” She groaned. “Literally everything.”

“Sounds about right.”

She shot me a sideways glance. “You’re not gonna argue?”

“Why would I? It’s facts. Women get the short end of the stick in pretty much everything. Pay gaps, unrealistic expectations, the way they get treated just for existing. If men had to deal with cramps, or periods, they’d be throwing a fit about it. They’d probably even create a whole product line for it.”

She scoffed lightly. “Oh, they’d have invented a pill by now. A pill that makes you get your period in five minutes and then gets rid of it in two seconds.”

“That sounds about right.”

“It’s so frustrating,” she muttered, waving her fries around for emphasis. “Don’t even get me started on women’s razors. Why are they more expensive than men’s when they do the same thing?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s called the ‘pink tax.’”

I ran a hand through my hair, fighting back a grin as she got more worked up. “That’s some bullshit.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

The movie played on, but we were barely watching now.

“Men are celebrated for being ‘tough’ all the time,” Beverly went on. “But when women show any strength, they get labeled as ‘bossy’ or ‘crazy.’ It’s like we don’t get the chance to show anything without being called out for it.”

I took in a deep breath, thinking through everything she’d just said. She was right. And the more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. In fact, it pissed me off in a way that left me almost speechless.