I pull the door open, planning to look irritated, but my smile betrays me. “I thought you were going to a party tonight.”

“I am.” Lily reaches for the bag resting near her feet and holds it up proudly. “You’re the party, Cora. I’ve got cheap Aldi wine that will give you such a bad headache, everything else in your life will seem like a magical fairytale, consisting of Henry Cavill riding on a unicorn naked through fields of endless cookie dough ice cream and orgasmic bliss.”

I blink. “The unicorn is naked? That’s awkward.”

“No, dumbass.”

“Okay, well, you should have worded it like, ‘a naked Henry Cavill riding a unicorn’.”

Lily swings her head back and forth as she pushes through the entryway with her migraine bag. “Dude. Don’t English teacher me.”

“I mean, that whole mental image sounds very unsettling if I’m being honest…”

She smacks me with the bag, slipping off her boots. “I also brought microwavable popcorn and a box of Kleenex for when we inevitably give into our wine emotions.”

I watch as Lily traipses through my living room to the kitchen, setting the bag down on the table and pulling out wine bottles. I can’t help but soften at the gesture, secretly grateful for the company. Avoidance has the unpleasant side effect of extreme loneliness. Shocking.

After three glasses of wine and two episodes of Dead to Me, Lily turns to me on the couch and gives me her gossip eyes. I glance at her, then quickly avert my attention back to the television, tossing a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re ripping secrets right out of my soul.”

Lily pulls her feet up onto the couch, still staring at me. “So, you’re saying you have secrets.”

“No.”

“Liar. Tell me what’s going on with Dean.”

I shovel more popcorn into my mouth.

Avoid.

I try to distract myself with the show, but James Marsden kind of resembles Dean with the hair and the gorgeous blue eyes, and dammit, Lily is still staring at me. “No. Go away.”

“Fine. But I’m taking the wine with me.”

“Fine.”

She groans in protest, nudging my knee with her toes. “I’m not taking the wine. I wouldn’t do that to you. And I’m too invested in the show to leave right now, but still—tell me.”

Avoid.

“Cora, I swear to God…”

“Okay, whatever, fine.” My cheeks start to warm as thoughts of Dean poke through my armor. “What do you want to know?”

“Um, did you land feet first in the boneyard?”

I spit out my wine. “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds depraved.”

“Are you doing the mattress mambo?”

“Just stop.”

“Is he throwing the hotdog down?”

“I literally hate you.”

Lily breaks out into a fit of wine giggles, tipping over, her head colliding with my shoulder. “Don’t be such a prude,” she teases, smacking me with her free hand.