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him what’s bothering me? Because this is
    the game women play. We want you to drag it out of us. To show
    us you’re interested. It’s a test—to see how much you care.
    Drew follows me into the bedroom. “Why didn’t you wait for
    me? I would’ve come with you.”
    I raise my eyes to his. My face is tight, my body tense, ready for battle. “You were otherwise occupied.”
    he looks down, eyes squinting. Trying to decode my words.
    Then he gives up.
    “What are you talking about?”
    I spell it out for him.
    “The blonde, Drew. At the bar?”
    he regards me with curiosity, “What about her?”
    “You tell me. Did you fuck her?”
    Drew scoffs. “Of course I didn’t fuck her. I left two minutes
    after you did. We both know I last a hell of a lot longer than that.
    Or do you need a reminder?”
    No, he’s not as obtuse as he seems. It’s kind of brilliant, actu-
    ally. he’s trying to be cute. Sexy. Trying to distract me.
    It’s what he does. And usually it works. But not tonight.
    “have you ever fucked her?”
    Drew rubs the back of his neck. “You really want me to answer
    that?”
    That’s a big fat yes, in case you were wondering.
    I throw my hands up. “Of course! Of course you screwed
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    that your dick isn’t intimately acquainted with! Not that you even remember them, half the time.”
    Drew’s eyes narrow, “So which is it? Are you pissed off when I
    do remember them, or when I don’t? Throw me a clue here, Kate,
    so I can give you the fight you’re obviously hell-bent on having.”
    I pick up my body lotion and rub it swiftly over my arms. “I
    don’t want to fight—I just want to know why you remember her.”
    Drew shrugs, and his tone turns neutral. “She’s a model. her
    billboard’s in the middle of Times Square. It’s a little hard to forget someone when you see her picture every day.”
    And doesn’t that just make me feel so much better.
    “how nice for you. Why are you even here then? Why don’t
    you go back and find your little model, if she means so much to
    you?”
    A small part of me realizes I’m being irrational, but my anger
    is like a mudslide—now that it’s started, there’s just no way to hold it back.
    Drew looks at me like I’ve gone crazy and holds out his hand.
    “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You know that. Where the fuck
    is this coming from?”
    And then a thought occurs to him.
    he takes a step back before asking, “Are you due for your
    period? Don’t freak out—I’m only asking because, the way you’ve
    been acting lately, I think Alexandra’s title is in jeopardy.”
    he could have a point. In high school, there was this hallway,
    the L wing, that was always really crowded between classes. And
    I knew my period was coming when I’d walk down that hallway
    and want to jab my pencil into the neck of the person in front
    of me.
    however—for you guys out there? Even if your girlfriend’s
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    tirade is PMS derived? Don’t point that out to her. It won’t end well for you.
    I pick up my shoe and throw it, hitting Drew right between
    his bright blue eyes.
    his hands go to his forehead. “What the shit?! I told you not
    to freak out!”
    Every relationship has a screamer. A thrower. A breaker of
    things. In this one, that would be me. But it’s not my fault. You
    can’t blame the nuclear missile for going off after all its buttons have been pushed.
    I pick up the other shoe and throw that one too. Drew grabs a
    pillow and uses it as a shield. I retreat to the closet for more ammo, but he grabs my arm before I can get there.
    “Would you fucking stop! Why are you being like this?”
    I glare up at him. “Because you don’t even care! I’m really upset
    here—and you don’t give a shit!”
    his eyes open wide, incredulous.
    “Of course I give a