Page 42 of Things I Overshared
“I can—”
“Don’t talk. You’re looking very vampire-turns-zombie. Just sit down.”
He obeys.
I start the tea kettle and find the packets. I hold up the two options in front of him. He chooses peppermint.
“Good choice, who wants to drink lavender? That’d be like sipping potpourri or perfume or something. Blech, no thank you,” I say, then realize I’m talking. “Sorry,” I whisper. I dig around for cookies and pull out a box, then remember he doesn’t eat sugar. The kettle clicks, so I pour the water in the bag and hand him the cup and saucer. He nods slowly, gets up, and goes to his room.
No thank-you.
No grin.
No tap on the side of my arm to acknowledge me.
Well, o-freaking-kay then, see if I ever help you again, Ice Hole!
Me: How it’s going, you ask?
Like this:
[Photo]
Skye: Bahahahahaha
Susan: OMG What is happening? Explain!
Sadie: This isn’t staged? You didn’t tell him to look at you like . . .
Sally: Like he hates you
Susan: Like he’s confused
Sadie: I’m going with befuddled
Skye: Like he needs to take a fat dump and also cry
Simple, I touched him.
Note my arms are wrapped around his arm.
That’s all it takes, ladies.
I’ve officially lost all my mojo
Susan: You didn’t say something?
Skye: Good call, Suze. What were you blabbing immediately before and after this was taken?
I said I wouldn’t tell Miranda, his gf
Is that a big deal?
I was joking because he didn’t want to take the pic
Skye: We need truckloads of context to advise
Susan: Sounds harmless to me
