I shake my head, and she clucks her tongue, shoves the phone across the table at me. The striptease video has scrolled down her list of posts, but it is still getting liked. Over eight hundred hearts since Saturday night; almost three hundred comments.

“And look!” She reaches over to scroll up. “Thirteen likes already on the pic I just posted. That’s a good omen.”

“Bona fide star,” Taylor says. “We’ll just monetize you somehow.”

I shake my head at them, laughing.

Katherine leans over to look at Nevaeh’s screen and makes a terrible face. “Oh my gosh, what is that?”

Quick as a flash Taylor grabs the phone, over Nevaeh’s protest.

“Who in the hell is sending you uninvited penises?” He frowns. “It’s not even a very good picture.” He holds up the phone. “The lighting is terrible.”

An uninvited dick pic feels aggressive, and ugly. “What is wrong with people?” I say indignantly.

Nevaeh snatches her phone back from Taylor. “Trolls,” she says. She taps her screen with a flourish. “Deleted!” She’s flicked it all away with a flash of her shining fingernails. “Because penises aren’t going to get us six thousand bucks,” she says, and she grins when I choke on my coffee. “What else have we got?”

Taylor suggests GoFundMe, which makes me wince and argue—that’s for people with real needs. We stay at the coffee shop and pick at bad pastries and brainstorm through our lunch period. We do some actual grant research, too, and learn that application deadlines are long past and I’d need to win all of them to afford this. We still haven’t figured out a moneymaking scheme by the time we have to get back for the academic block.

When I pull five singles out of my wallet, Katherine shakes her head. She snatches them out of my hand and stuffs them into my cleavage. “You should be making money, not giving it away,” she says.

I look down at the bills and my boobs. “I can be a stripper,” I say, plucking out a dollar and smoothing it on the table, remembering Christopher’s smirky face and the look of maybe-desire on Gavin’s when he watched me move. And the idea … doesn’t sound like the worst idea I’ve ever had.

“Addie!” Nevaeh says, grabbing my arm. “Do you know how much a stripper makes in one night?”

“It is monetizing the male gaze!” Katherine says. “I love it.”

“That doesn’t seem very feminist to me,” Taylor says.

“She’s taking advantage of a paradigm designed to benefit men and turning it instead into an opportunity for her own wealth and well-being,” Nevaeh explains.

“She’s giving dudes boners!”

“And getting paid for it!”

“It still doesn’t sound feminist to me,” Taylor says.