Dylan: I’m coming to LA for a shoot! Wanna hang while I’m there?
Dylan was an underwear model in New York City. Honest to god. It made Brooke giggle every time she thought about the fact that she was friends with a real live underwear model.
Technically, he didn’t just model underwear, but it was more fun to think of him as an underwear model than a shaving cream model, cologne model, wristwatch model, or any of the other myriad products he’d pimped.
Brooke: Yes! I’d love to see you!
Dylan: Any chance I could crash on your couch?
Brooke: Of course! Mi casa es tu casa.
Brooke’s phone rang a moment later. Call from Dylan Price it said on the screen, above an old prom selfie of the two of them all dressed up in formalwear and making silly faces for the camera. She’d forgotten that was the photo she’d assigned to him and smiled at the memory, feeling a rush of fondness for her oldest friend.
She’d met Dylan when she was seven, the day her family had moved into the house across the street from his in Baton Rouge. On her first day of second grade at her new school he’d been the only kid she knew, and he’d made a point of introducing her to everyone as “my new friend Brooke.” His status as her favorite person in the world had been pretty much cemented from that moment forward, and the two of them had been inseparable through elementary school.
Once they got to middle school, Brooke had tested into the accelerated classes, while Dylan struggled to maintain passing grades. Still, they’d managed to stay friends, even into high school, as she juggled honors classes while he got involved in track and band.
Dylan had been a gangly nerd with glasses, braces, and acne—until the summer before their junior year, when he experienced a huge growth spurt, got his braces off, and his mom got him Proactiv and contact lenses. Almost overnight, Brooke’s sweet, dorky friend transformed into a total hottie. Girls started taking an interest in him for the first time, and he made the most of his newfound popularity, dating his way through most of the marching band’s woodwind section.
And now he was a model whose glistening bare abs had once adorned a billboard in Times Square. Go figure. But in her head, Brooke still thought of Dylan as the kid who lived across the street and had always looked out for her.
“You’re really coming to visit?” she said excitedly, answering his call as she sank onto a desk chair.
“Yeah! If you’re sure you don’t mind me staying with you.” His voice was warm and resonant, and it instantly took her back to all those nights they’d spent on the phone, baring their adolescent souls to one another. It felt like a lifetime ago and also somehow only yesterday. “I’m also totally fine getting a hotel if that works better for you.”
“Perish the thought! I happen to have a five-star couch. I’m pretty sure it’s more comfortable than most hotel beds.”
“Cool. I figured this way we’d get to see more of each other.”
“Yeah, it’ll be great. How long will you be here for?” She reached up to twirl the thin brown hair she’d pulled back into a ponytail.
“A week, from Sunday to Sunday. Think you can put up with me for that long?”
“A whole week! Wow! That’s a long photo shoot.”
“The shoot’s only one day, but I thought I’d take the whole week, make a vacation of it. I could use a break.”
Brooke was honored he’d want to take a whole week of vacation to hang out with her, but also a little mystified. From what she could tell from his social media, Dylan seemed to be doing really well. She would have thought he could afford to go pretty much anywhere he wanted for vacation. So why would he want to spend it crashing on her couch?
“Is everything okay?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Sure. Yeah. Terrific. Just working too much.”
She’d always been able to tell when he was lying. “Really? Kinda sounds like it might be more than that.”
He let out a soft sigh. “It’s nothing special. I’ll tell you all about it when I’m there.”
“Deal.” It would be easier to wheedle the truth out of him in person, and they’d have plenty of time to talk through whatever he needed. Too much time, maybe. She wasn’t sure how she was going to entertain him