Page 25 of Tap My TOKTIK

“He made a TikTok video about only wanting dessert.”

She sucks in a breath. “He did not!”

“Oh, he absolutely did, he totally went there! I’d show you but my phone is in the fire and I think the fumes are making me high,” I laugh, trying to make it all sound less strange than it is.

“I have a phone, I’m finding this. No wonder you’re drinking a chocolate whiskey milkshake like it’s water in the desert.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls. “What’s his user name?”

“H Waters with a funny thing for an A.”

“A funny thing? There’s a few options there,” she snickers, her mind perpetually in the gutter. At least I have an excuse, writing smut is my job, but Amelia is just dirty-minded and horny. Though, come to think of it, I’m horny too. Whoops.

“The thing from the six key.” I don’t know what it’s called, I just know where to find it. She doesn’t take long to find it.

“He did, he’s calling you out!” Amelia shouts, flapping her hand at me. She almost bumps her milkshake over.

“No, it’s an advert for his sister’s bakery,” I argue. I don’t want to think about the alternative.

“You keep telling yourself that, but I’m telling you he wants you.” She’s wrong, so far thirty years experience shows no one wants me, not for keeps anyway. The silly redheaded girl who makes up stories doesn’t get the boy, I just write the stories about the girls who do.

“It was a one-night stand, Amelia. Great sex, dessert and that’s it. Men like him are not into crazy women. Trust me, he’d take me on a few dates, live through one deadline and be gone like all the others before him.”

“He literally got himself a TikTok account to follow you and make that video. He ONLY follows you. No one else, Liv. Seems he likes you more than a one-night stand, and so what if it ends? Nothing is forever.” I want forever this time, I don’t want to be waiting for it all to end right from when it begins. I want forever, and my gut says Harlan isn’t a forever guy. I’m sure his Bird thought it was, and look what he did and with me no less. It still makes me feel ick. “You need to change how you see things, you always look for the worst in every situation, especially with men, and then you just miss the best parts. I’m just saying.” I know my negative thought patterns are a problem, but changing them is a bigger one. I’ve tried. “I mean, that shitty blind date turned out pretty good, didn’t it?” If by good she means I wrote the best book ever and set off a complete nervous breakdown, then yes.

“I don’t think I’m ready for any of it, even if I want it. Relationships aren’t what I’m good at. I’m not even a half-decent friend, how am I supposed to be a girlfriend?”

“True, you sometimes suck at the friend thing, but he looks like a grumpy asshole with no friends either, may just be a match made in heaven.”

“Or hell,” I counter. “I’m just going to pretend I never saw it. Easy.”

“Easy because your phone is melted to the fireplace floor.” She picks up her drink and we both move to my sofa, the smell of chargrilled electronics still overwhelming. I get up and open all the windows, letting the chilly wind come into my cozy, warm home. God, I hate being cold. I pull a blanket from the basket beside the sofa and cover myself up. Milkshakes in the winter, only Amelia. “Should I go online on my phone and order you a new phone?” she jokes. It’s tempting, but I’m full of shit with my electronics, a total brand whore.

“No, I’ll get someone to do it tomorrow. I might wait a day, or ten, before it arrives, though.”

Amelia’s phone rings, and Dion’s name flashes on the screen. “Can I toss mine in the fire too?” she asks, before declining the call. We sit in silence, the wind howling in through open windows, the fire burning, and the chocolate bliss of alcoholic milkshakes. I don’t feel alone, for that time when Amelia and I sit in the quiet and say nothing I’m not lonely at all. “Do you think you’re so freaked out because you actually like this guy? Or because you’re afraid he likes you back?” she says out of left field.

I think about it for a minute, and reply, “Both, I think.”

“Hmm,” is all she says.

“You staying over?” I ask, because she’s drinking and I know she drove here.

“Probably.” Best friends are different, having Amelia in my space doesn’t stress me out, or feed my anxiety LSD.

“Sofa or pull-out bed?”

“Sofa, that thing is the fucking hardest bed on earth. It’s like you don’t want people staying over.”

“I don’t, that’s the point,” I laugh. She knows I hate guests, she’s literally the only person I allow into my space.

“You completely suck at being a person, you know that?”

“I know.” I just prefer imaginary people, animals and Amelia. “I’m working on it.” Sort of.