Eve

"Heyyyyy babe," she starts out. You groan internally wondering what the issue could be and if it'll stop her from coming over at all. You think to yourself that you'll strangle her suitemate if she's crying again.

"Listen...Professor Miles got this golden opportunity to go to some gallery in NY. It literally just popped up. He told me we could go and I'd get some great exposure, and New York City has the best art scene in the world!" you could tell she was excited.

You figure that her statement is debatable but don't want to start a fight, at least not over which city has the best art scene, and ask, "So what you guys are leaving now? Tonight? This late? And returning sometime tomorrow...afternoon?" you end hopefully. Your half chub is dying fast at having to hold off from her body for another day.

"No....and don't be mad John...but we'll be back Sunday night late. I know! I know! It's a lot but he says the social scene up there is like a party late all weekend type of deal," she tries to assuage you.

"Whoa, Eve, what?" you say. "You're going to party in NYC with your professor!? Do you know how absurd that sounds!?" Your tone is rising fast.

"No no, I don't think it's like college-party but like a high-society type thing. Like you don't drink to get wasted," she's trying to reason with you but you're having none of it. You hang up the phone and ignore her subsequent calls and apology texts.