“Good things come to those who wait for the right guy,” Annabelle said reassuringly with a soft voice.
“Yeah, I guess, but how long does a girl have to wait? I feel like I’m starting to get cobwebs down there.” Caroline nodded down to her crotch, making us all bust out in hysterics. “The only action I have seen in the last eight months has been battery-operated.”
“Thank goodness for battery-powered boyfriends. They never get tired or have whiskey dick,” Harper teased.
“Ain’t that the damn truth?” I added in. “I feel like I should have a shrine to mine.”
“That cool drink of water who just messaged you back might be able to retire that vibrator of yours.” Annabelle pointed at my phone, which was lighting up with another text from Trace:Just a boys’ night in.A few seconds later another picture came through, one of him posing with a gorgeous Bluetick Coonhound. He had the most adorable, large floppy ears.
“He just sealed the deal. Look.” I passed the phone around again to a chorus of “Aw!”
“Date the dog—he’s cuter,” Harper badgered, tossing my phone back into my lap.
I gazed at the picture again. “You’re right. The pupper it is.”
Me: What’s his name?
Trace: Clint Barton.
Me: As in Hawkeye?
Trace: Ding ding ding. We have a winner. God, you’re perfect!
And there you have it folks, another closet Marvel nerd to send me right over the edge of gushing.
“Phone down,” Harper instructed. “He’ll have you all to himself soon enough. Tonight is about us.”
I did as I was told. She was right—I needed to be present with my friends.
Our night went on as we giggled and gossiped about everything under the sun until we passed out in our blanket fort in the closet.