"Because you're smarter than me," Richie said, easy, breezy, less beautiful than Beverly. (Covergirl).
He closed the door behind her and hoped to fuck he hadn't packed up all of his classes yet but it was looking a little unlikely since he was as scatter brained about packing as he was everything else. There were pretty unrealistic chances for both his toothbrush and his meds too, so it was going to be a fun night or morning either way.
"Oh, man, Bev, come on," he said, waving away the idea of wedding bells, even if it did something nervy and wholesome to his stomach. Shut up. That was too fast. Let him live with someone for more than a weekend first, see how that went.
"You promised me hot gossip," he reminded leading her further into the labyrinth mess of boxes and half packed things. No rhyme or reason.