If only society worked that way.

All I want to do is go home, put on some sweats, and eat a bag of chips. But that's the first step of a slippery slope ending in me at three hundred pounds and h.o.a.rding animals, so I don't.

Instead, I track Sam down and see if he wants me to bring over Chinese. He's just coming out of his Marketing cla.s.s and looks pretty annoyed himself.

Maybe we can work off a little steam together.

I extend my offer.

His eyes light up. "Ginger beef, maybe a little Wii? I'm in."

Why is he being so boneheaded about this?

Once again it's going to be up to me to do everything. Because it's not like he doesn't want to. It's just before and after that he acts like a baby. The "during" he's very fine indeed.

I feed him first, hoping that will jolly him into a good mood.

He's laughing and kidding around, which is a positive sign. Then he breaks out the Wii.

I have a moment of hope when the batteries are dead but he a.s.sures me he has more in the kitchen. Off he trots.

Fine. I undo the top couple b.u.t.tons on my shirt and watch him return to the room with a feline smile.

"Not tonight, I have a headache," he grouses.

"Come on. These are supposed to be your peak s.e.xual years. What's your deal?"

"No deal." He motions at my shirt, which is practically all undone now. "You're just being presumptuous."

Which sounds so old man I can't even believe it's coming out of his mouth.

I shrug it off. "Sorry. Didn't realize this was friend time."

He accepts my apology as I snap open the final b.u.t.ton. Yeah, I'm a stinker.

"It's just, it might be nice to hang out. Talk," he says.

I fix him with my most winning smile. "Or, we could rub up against each other and see where friction takes us."

The shirt hangs open. He struggles with the decision for about a second.

"Definitely not friend time," he concedes.

This is what I'm talking about.

I whip off my shirt and toss it at him.

Sam lunges for me as I shriek with laughter and take off for his bedroom.

Much better.

Chapter nineteen.

It's mad bliss until I come back from the bathroom afterward and find...nothing. I chuck the pillow Ally was using across the room.

Horrified, I realize I'm starting to act like a girl. I need to get past this and get my *nads back. No way am I talking to Ian. So I head over to Etienne's for some pure dog run down like "yo, man, good score" to get my head back in the game.

Desperate times.

No help there, though, because he gets stuck at the part where Ally and I got it on and doesn't move forward.

"I didn't think hot jungle s.e.x was possible with that chick," he says, playing defense with his foosball players on the table in his bas.e.m.e.nt. "Maybe I should revisit that land. The view was excellent."

He goes for a goal. "It didn't actually take dark club lights or getting smashed to make the vista s.e.xy. Impressive."

I block his play. "You're not visiting any land where I'm already on vacation. There are rules."

Etienne ignores me. "A good panorama both directions. Coming and going. Is our friendship worth that sacrifice?"

"Maybe I should check out Clarissaland," I retort. "It has such lush peaks and valleys."

I score.

Etienne pulls the ball out of his net. "Fine. I will holiday elsewhere. But when this ends, I'm on the next plane."

"Don't pack anytime soon," I warn him. I overshoot the ball and it flies off the table.

It's time for me to take my own advice. I've got to own it and control it. Ally must fall back into being my friend and nothing else.

Unless I decide otherwise.

I lay low for a few days until the weekend, when I call her cell. I can hear her typing as she speaks and I know I've only got about a minute before she zones out totally into her screen.

"Wes Anderson double bill at seven. I switched shifts so we could go." Part of what's great about our friendship is always having a movie buddy around. We are cinema fiends.

"Can't," she says. "I'm busy."

Three guesses what that means and the first two don't count.

She hangs up.

Irritated, I toss the phone on the couch.

Ally and I have a pattern to our friendship. Since I've always been the one with a busier lifestyle (her activism and lame boyfriend not counting), I've been the one to mostly direct the action.

This new version of her calling the shots is not working for me.

I have to make a major play to school her back into the place she belongs. Which tonight means going to the movies with me. She can fool around after the double bill.

Three hours later, I'm outside her house looking furtively around. It's evening, though, and already dark, and there's n.o.body else there.

I've got my phone pressed up to my ear. "I'll give you twenty," I tell Etienne, on the other end. I listen to his extortionist response. "Fifty and f.u.c.k you too. Call now."

I hang up and sneak in the shadows to under Ally's open kitchen window. I hear the phone ring. Her parents left to shop for a new TV earlier, so I know Ally has to answer it. She hates letting a phone ring.

"Coming," I hear her call out in a singsong voice that is very un-Ally.

From my hiding place, I hear her shuffle into the kitchen to answer the phone.

"h.e.l.lo? Hi, Etienne. No, Sam isn't here."

I sneak away quietly to her front door where I pick up a small, white bag with a pharmacy logo on the side.

I rap gently on the door and wait. A moment later, some guy in his early 20's with stereotypical blond, preppy looks opens it.

What a k.n.o.b.

I hold up the bag and say cheerfully "Delivery."

"Oh, one sec." k.n.o.b looks back toward the kitchen where Ally is.

I have to move fast to keep him from calling out to her. "All paid for," I hurriedly a.s.sure him. "Here."

I hand over the bag.

"I know it's none of my business, but good luck," I say.

"Huh?" He asks in his best caveman impersonation.

Okay, that's not fair. I don't even know the guy. He might have a way better impersonation I haven't seen yet.

I indicate the bag. "The ovulation thermometer." Yes, it's a stretch, but the whole teen mom thing has become a phenomenon so maybe he'll figure Ally really wants on the cover of People.

And if that doesn't work- "Just make sure she uses the herpes cream after she inserts the thermometer and takes the reading. Don't want the fiery b.u.g.g.e.rs to ruin anything."

I'd laugh at the look of terror on his face but I'm supposedly a professional so I stay poker-faced.

That oughta take care of him.

I dash down the stairs, smug, and then get out of sight.

I jam myself into the perfect hiding spot in the bushes and peer out to watch Ally join k.n.o.b boy at the door.

She puts her arms around his waist. He flees, still holding the bag, which he drops in her yard.

"Adam?" she calls out after him, in this high, girly voice.

What a p.u.s.s.y. Really I've done her a favor because if he's going to judge her on the basis of herpes, then he's not the guy for her.

It would have been a great ending except then I blow it by stepping on the driest twig in history. Its snap is deafening.

Standing still doesn't cut it because Ally comes out to investigate. Neither does playing it cool and pretending to just be pa.s.sing by.

"Hey," I say with utter nonchalance.

"You're unbelievable," she accuses.

"Told you not to bring them home," I remind her. "I'm just doing my mentorly duty."

"You think this is a joke?"

"He was." I wiggle my pinkie finger meaningfully. "But mostly I think you blew me off."

Her eyes narrow as she takes in my irritated expression.

"No way," she says. "You don't get to be mad. I have at least another ten years of full-on bad behavior before you come close to enduring what I did."

"Meaning?"

"Always being late to whatever we've planned, hitting up girls while hanging out with me. Sound familiar?"

She may have a point. However, she's missing the bigger issue. "I just felt like hanging out with you tonight."

"So what I wanted doesn't matter?" she levels.

"It does."

She shakes her head at me. "All these years, you've just a.s.sumed I'll be around whenever you want."

"You have been around and I thought it was because you wanted to be."

"Well, tonight, I wasn't. But that didn't stop you, did it?"

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry, okay."

"I've heard that before. I'm not going to be taken for granted anymore. By anyone."

"I'm not. You're blowing this way out of proportion. You PMSing?"

She shoots me one last glower. "I'm going."

Ally pivots on her heel and marches back toward her house.