“I would die to meet her.” Her eyes are wide as saucers. “You have to take me now.”
I thought you’d never ask.
I smirk. “You don’t waste any time do you, Stones? One date and already you’re inviting yourself back to my house.”
“This isn’t a date.”
“Sure it is.”
She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks pink up, and I know I’ve riled her. Alaska turns back the way we came and exits the alley. I follow with a grin stretched from ear to ear.
This is definitely a date.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALASKA
@alaskasaerosoladdiction: Remind me again how poisoning my body is going to cure it?
@zedatwoodsbellybuttonlint: Rough day?
@alaskasaerosoladdiction: The worst. Why is it that I finally start feeling better after chemo and then—BAM!—I’m hit with a migraine so severe I start praying for death?
@zedatwoodsbellybuttonlint: That bad, huh?
@alaskasaerosoladdiction: Yep. Every now and then, the little dude renting a room in my skull likes to throw a dance party. But hey, at least he’s sticking around ... unlike my other friends.
@zedatwoodsbellybuttonlint: You need new friends. Does he at least play any good music?
I laugh, but even that makes my head ache. The glare from my screen doesn’t help with that either, but I’m so tired of sitting in this dark room for hours on end, unable to do anything but sleep.
@alaskasaerosoladdiction: Not unless you like house from the 90s.
@zedatwoodsbellybuttonlint: Nooooo! Not house. Anything but that. You should evict him.
@alaskasaerosoladdiction: You sound like my mother. I think she’s threatened every surgeon in the Bay Area to move up my surgery. I wish she wouldn’t.