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Chapter 1

Author's Note: Welcome back :)

Chapter 1

Well, well, well.

We meet again.

My oldest but dearest friend, never one to let me down, always cheers me up, and knows exactly what I want.

"Rocky road," I whispered to myself as I dug a plastic spoon into the rich cream of indulgence, handed to me from the teenage worker at Ben & Jerry's.

Nicole watched me with an unreadable look on her face. "I'm not sure if you're eating ice cream or having an orgasm from the way your eyes are rolling back..."

I coughed after choking on a few bits of marshmallow. "Nikki, there are kids here!" I gestured to the two young girls whose wide eyes and innocent faces were staring at us.

"Please, they're going to learn about sex sooner or later," Nicole scoffed with an eye roll. Clearly, motherhood wasn't in the future for her.

"This is why I can't take you out in public," I laughed, pushing her out of the ice cream shop and onto the sidewalk. "You don't know how to act normally."

Nicole flipped her light tangerine colored hair over her shoulder. "Hey, you're one to talk. I'm surprised you didn't spot clean that entire store the second we walked in there."

"It's actually normal to like clean things," I pointed out. "So what if I'm a little anal about it?

"A little anal? We were thirty minutes late to the EPAA awards last year because you couldn't get a stain out of your kitchen sink," She argued back.

"A stain that was created because you burned a bowl of ramen noodles," I reminded her of that major detail.

"Not the point. We were late! Not even fashionably late!"

"And did the world stop spinning? Oh gosh, I don't think it did," I gave my smart-ass comment.

"See, this is why you don't have sex."

I laughed through my nose since my mouth was filled with ice cream. I swallowed and said, "How is this relevant to-"

"You're kind of a dork, Hale," She said, with the utmost sincerity.

"I choose not to have sex. You on the other hand-"

"-am having the time of my life!" She answered while throwing on a pair of sunglasses. "Associate writer at the New Yorker, closet filled with designer clothes, had a date with a broker from Wall Street last night - who was great in bed I might add - and have plans for another date with some journalist from the Times tonight."

I shook my head at Nicole but couldn't help but admire her eccentric ways that had somehow grown on me. She was the first friend I made at the New Yorker. Back then we were both junior writers and quickly bonded over our love of Will & Grace, Rocky Road ice cream, and writing. Honestly, she was an exact clone of me, with the exception of, well, cleanliness. We shared the same humor and since we both worked in the same department, there were hundreds of inside jokes we had filed away in the memory bank over the past three years.

Last year, there were two spots open for promotion in our department and we both succeeded at getting them. At first, when they made the announcement of promotion, I was nervous that there would be competition between us. Nicole's articles were, to be honest, flawless. They were crisp and fluid, clever and witty. When I first read one of her pieces, I felt like an amateur. But when she quickly showed praise for my writing as well, I knew I had found a genuine friend.

The promotion didn't change anything. I never felt as if we were in competition. Instead, we both encouraged each other .

We got along so well, that when my lease came to an end last summer, she invited me to move in to her penthouse suite apartment. Did I mention she came from one of those families that go to Polo matches and vacation in Fiji? Which explains why we were able to afford a place so clearly out of our price range. When they learned Nicole was getting a roommate, they offered to pay a fourth of our rent and the both of us would split the rest. With a pay raise as an added bonus to the promotion, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get an upgraded room, even if it meant getting a roommate. She was a bit messy, but not to the point where I wanted to strangle her with a dish rag. It helped that she knew how to cook - she took professional culinary lessons as a kid, you know, normal childhood things - and had an eye for interior design.