“When have you known her not to reply within minutes of receiving a text or a call?” “Uh, when she’s in the bathroom. Class. Work. Sleeping. Showering. A photo—” “It’s been almost an hour,” I snapped. Jules shrugged. “Maybe she’s having sex.” A muscle jumped in my jaw. I wasn’t sure which version of Jules was worse—the one who always tried to convince me to mow the lawn shirtless, or the one who relished baiting me.
