Strip Twister

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Watermelon sangria in abundance, The Weeknd blowing up her levitating Bluetooth speaker all sexy-like and loud, good time girls Shauna, Krystal, and Eliza hanging tight at Brie's apartment, and a summer-like reprise out on the balcony. It's Saturday night, and Brie is making the best of it.

"I can't feel my face when I'm with you," she sings to the music. "But I love it..."

Feels good to blow off some steam after a long week of hard work and good girlfriending. Everything is dreamy with Danny, but when he asked if she wanted to hang out at his house tonight and wait for him to get home from his event, she politely declined. Sweet and all, but she isn't a puppy.

Shauna, freshly jilted by the bodybuilder-bartender she hooked up with on Tinder, is drinking accordingly. "He was, like, so so into me at first."

Crystal is sparking a joint. "Keyword: at first."

Eliza is Tindering. "Told you not to go hang out at his work."

Brie tilts her head at Shauna. "The gym?"

"The bar!" Shauna shouts, reaching for the marijuana. "What about you, Miss Boyfriend with a Porsche? I've seen his car in your second spot, like, every night this week."

Krystal is laughing, already stoned. "Backdoor man!"

Brie throws a throw pillow at her. "No, Slimeball. She's talking about parking spaces."

"Gad," Krystal sighs, falling over from the force of the thrown pillow. "You have no idea what a slimeball I really am. I screwed my cousin Becca's boyfriend last night. The three of us were hanging out at my house, and Becca went out to pick up Ethiopian food, and he nailed me against the fridge while she was gone. So hot."

Brie takes a thoughtful hit. "Who gets takeout Ethiopian food?"

"So give it up, Brie," Shauna says, forever jealous. "Are you in love or what?"

Oh, how to handle the truth with the gals? She could gush about the rosy stuff, but that would only bring them sadness. She could cop to the thorns, but this would activate their schadenfreude and they'd want to talk the matter to death in the name of supportive female friendship. "Well," Brie says, opting for honesty. "He's the nicest, most respectful, thoughtful guy I've ever dated who I also happen to be intensely physically attracted to. I must admit, it's a refreshing combination."

The girls each utter obligatory, envy-gooed niceties such as "That's so great!" and "Super happy for you!" and "What's his dick like?" This last one from Sangria-guzzling Shauna.

The doorbell rings, and Brie hops up to answer it. "You need to try and tone it down, Shaun."

Shauna is muttering how she thinks she's a man expert now as Brie presses her eye to the peephole. "Just trying to help. Men don't like nasty women." On her doorstep, three such men clothed in hoodies and jeans come bearing gifts of vodka and nachos. Brie yanks open the door. "Sup, fool?" she says to Gabe, hugging him. "Haven't seen you forever." She smiles at the others. "Hey, I know you," she says to one with sandy blonde surfer hair. "Beck, right?"

This guy is gonzo good-looking and mellow and nice. She met him at Gabe's birthday party last year and was mega hot for him, but then some pinch-faced brunette with amazing legs sidled up and called him Sweetie.

Beck smiles. "Yeah, good memory. I remember you, too." His eyes linger on her two beats longer than customary before pointing at the third guy, who is wearing a ballcap that says The Meatus. "This is my cousin, Alex."

Brie shakes Alex's hand. "Oh good, we love cousins. What's The Meatus?"

Alex laughs. "No idea. A friend brought it back from Korea."

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