Page 53 of Derivation

“Vi, we’re not at work right now. We’re at your housewarming party,” Sarai pointed out. “Shouldn’t we do this tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, I want to get moving on finding us a place. I’ll need to see which ones I’ve looked into are still available, and–”

“Okay. Fine. In favor. Whatever,” Sarai replied.

“Me too,” Enya added, raising her hand.

“Fine. I will agree to look at places,” Arlowe said.

“That’s it?” Violet asked.

“For now,” Arlowe replied.

“I’ll take it,” Violet said and turned. “Babe, we’re getting an office!”

“That’s great, babe!” Stella yelled back.

“Oh, God. They’re doing the whole ‘babe’ thing again,” Arlowe said.

“What? I can’t call my girlfriend ‘babe?’”

“It’s more like you call her that, and then she calls you that, and a second later, you’ll call her that again, and it’s this never-ending cycle of babes,” Arlowe replied.

“You should love that, then,” Sarai said. “A never-ending cycle of babes is right up your alley.”

Gabi laughed a little, but then she remembered that she was still upset with Sarai and stopped. Sarai caught her and looked apologetic, if Gabi was reading her right.

“You’re hilarious,” Arlowe replied sarcastically. “Now, I’m getting another sandwich while I try to process having to drive to work every day.”

Violet rolled her eyes at her and headed toward Stella.

“Your life is so very hard,” Sarai mocked.

“Shut up, Sarai.”

“Hey, can I go with you?” Gabi asked Arlowe. “I could use a sandwich.”

“Your plate is still full,” Sarai noted.

“Yeah, but I want a sandwich, too,” she replied.

“Sure. Come on,” Arlowe said.

They made their way into the kitchen, and Gabi picked up a sandwich that she didn’t really want and added it to her already full plate. Then, she watched Sarai walk through the kitchen and into the living room. Not long after that, Sarai marched back through the kitchen outside, but this time, she had a cup in her hand, which probably had a rum and Coke in it.

“Are you okay?” Arlowe asked her.

“What?”

“You seem like you might be unhappy with our friend in common, Sarai.”

“No, I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re fine.”

“That’s convincing,” Arlowe said, clearly not buying it.

“What about you? Are you okay?” she asked, changing the subject.

“It’s a lot. And I guess you could say that I don’t handle change very well. Not the big ones, anyway,” Arlowe added. “They still make fun of me for a relationship I had when I was twenty-two, so…”