“I should’ve brought something,” she said to Will, privately.
“You can get a sweatshirt here,” Jenna said, without looking back, pointing to a tourist shop on the corner. “Look, this one has the salamander from Parc Güell on it.”
Whitney’s mouth cracked wide, a little disbelieving.
“It looks warm,” Jenna continued. “And actually kinda like the new Gucci…”
“I’ll be fine,” Whitney said.
They weren’t off in any direction in particular, but Jenna and Jack were in the lead. They were walking up the alley, not down. They were following the alley to its end. Will and Whitney hung back.
“What the fuck is her problem?” Whitney said.
“What do you mean?” Will said.
“That pretentious bullshit in there,” she said. “That fucking list and those smirks and knowing little laughs. The way she went after you two. The way she was nipping at me the whole time.”
“I mean, I know she says some obnoxious stuff, but that just seems to be what you get with her, right? It’s non-discriminating, at least.”
“That Buddhist bullshit. That Houellebecq crap. That line about getting older—my skin and tits and ass? And now this fucking sweatshirt?”
“I think she just was saying that you could get a sweatshirt there if you’re cold. She’s a little much, but I don’t think there was anything that was more than—”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Am I? I don’t know, I just don’t really think there’s anything malicious going on.”
“Every little thing’s a provocation. That shit about new kinks and keeping things hot? Did you fucking blab to her last night about what we did?”
“Whit, Jesus. Of course not. I haven’t told anybody, let alone a loony tunes chick we met at a party.”
“Then what the fuck was that about? Just another dig? What about fate, what about love and sex? What a precocious little twat.”
“All right, well, I guess that’s that, then. Don’t need to do this again.”
“I know you can’t see past that tight little body, but there’s some serious bullshit going on, and it’s getting me a little—”
“You’re making way too much of this! I don’t think there was anything there that should be perceived as direct, specific shots at you. Okay? I thought it was super nice and fun most of the time. She needled me, too. Right after my dumb list. And if anyone has grounds, isn’t it Jack? She’s especially vicious to—”
“Right, right. Defend him, not me. You’re an idiot. Jenna Fucking Leonard. She’s got you both by the cocks. Her legs wrapped around your neck like a fucking femmebot. Sweet Jack and Predictably Susceptible Will. Stuck with this old crumpled bag. I always forget that that thing up there has been your fantasy forever. Manic Pixie Dream Bitch behavior that you’ve always had a weakness for. Someone to slap you around a little and get you off with some fucking Snapple-bottle philosophy. I’m surprised that wasn’t one of your freebies, a girl like that. Find someone to tell you about all the books she’s bought but never read, and then step on your balls.”
Will laughed incredulously. “You’re unbelievable. It’s un-fucking-believable to me how quickly you escalate this shit. How quickly you get to the red rage without a warning bell. You always do—”
“I don’t always do anything. This isn’t my fault. Don’t start hitting back at me with shit like that. I’m glad you found a compadre in Jack, and that you both find it all so irresistible. But she’s gonna destroy him. And she can destroy you, too, for all I care.”
Will started up the alley in their direction. They were pulling away, and they’d notice if he and Whitney didn’t start walking soon.
“I’m gonna go home,” Whitney said, staying put.
“What are you doing, seriously?”
“I don’t want to go that way. You’re more than welcome. I’ll take the key and you can buzz up when you get home and I’ll let you in. I’m exhausted. And I really don’t want to go wherever they’re going.”
“Please don’t make this more than it is. She’s a bitch. Does that do it? We’re on the same page now? She’s a needling pain in the ass who knew some spots to go to the last two nights. But I don’t understand why you’re letting her get to you. I don’t know why you can’t just ignore her. C’mon. Let’s not make a scene right here. Please just come along.”
Jack and Jenna were two blocks ahead of them now and they still hadn’t turned around. They strolled slowly, Jenna taking two strides for each of Jack’s. Jack rested his open hand on the top of her head. From distance, it looked like he was palming her like a basketball.
“Let’s please not make this a thing,” Will said. “Let’s just catch up and say good night and then walk our own way. Just please don’t make me go up there alone.”
“Always so concerned with what others will think. Quaking at the thought of someone perceiving conflict.”
“Whitney, c’mon. Jesus. I didn’t do anything. Don’t lash out at me because some fucking college chick hurt your feelings.”
Whitney laughed and shook her head. “Give me the keys, please.”
“Strike that last line from the record,” he said. He couldn’t help himself. Each time he’d climb up to the edge, he’d fall back down and wind up deeper in the hole than before. “Just walk to the intersection and say goodbye. You don’t even have to walk home with me. I’ll stay behind you and won’t say a thing. Please just go up there and say good night.”
“Give me the keys.”
“I’m not giving you the keys until you come up the hill.”
She one-eightied and started down the alley in the other direction.
“Whitney, Jesus,” Will said, and chased her a quarter block and stood in her way. “Remember what this is over! This is over a fucking sweatshirt.”
“Don’t make me sound trivial. Get out of my way.”
“This is my least-favorite version of you, period.”
“Move.”
He moved with her like a lineman. “This is the part of you I
