“Why are you looking at me like that? Quit smiling,” she said.

I couldn’t. The smile was permanent. “You were jealous?”

“Fuck no,” she said, scrubbing harder.

“C’mon. For half a second you were jealous,” I prodded.

“Like you pointed out just a few seconds ago, I barely know you,” she said, out of breath.

“So?”

Her movements slowed, and she sat back on her haunches. “That must’ve been some date if she felt like puking but refused to go home until she actually did.”

I breathed out a laugh, tossing the rag to the floor. “She let Trex take her home. It’s safe to say I’m out of the running. But, like I told you, we made these plans before I met you. Trex has been in the picture while I’ve been out of it. I liked her, sure, but we’re just friends.”

Naomi’s expression softened, her scrubbing slowed. “Well, then let me apologize for Trex. He’s sensitive about her.”

“No, he was right. I should’ve taken her home no matter what she said. I knew she wasn’t feeling well.”

She soaked a rag in the suds and began to scrub. Her toned arms tensed as she pushed and pulled the wadded fabric against the carpet. “When he realizes what really went down, he’ll feel bad. That’s not really like him. He thinks she’s something special.”

“She is.”

Naomi looked up, annoyed. “You going to help or not?”

“Oh,” I said, getting on my knees and reaching across her to soak my rag. The water was already disgusting again, but I kept going, anyway.

We rinsed the carpet then lay towels over the soaked spot and stepped down. Once we couldn’t pick up more moisture, we picked up the soaked wads of fabric and tossed them in an empty laundry basket Jerry had brought over.

“I’ll take back the bucket,” Watts said, leaving Naomi and me alone.

“So … are you two going to start fighting over her or…?” Naomi asked. “Because Trex is my best friend, and I’ll take his side.”

“I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” I said, smug. She didn’t want me with Darby any more than Trex did.

“I happen to have seen you fight—over a girl—and she happened to be me, so I know that’s not true. You at least fight for honor, and that’s pretty cool.”

I looked down at the ring on her middle finger. “What’s that about?” I asked, gesturing to the gold band. The coldness in her eyes returned, and I instantly regretted my question.

She stood, looking down at her wet, filthy knees. “I’d better get washed off. Pretty sure every STD in existence is hiding in that carpet.”

“Right behind you.” I stood as she walked toward the restrooms.