She bookmarked CupidUnleashed’s account on her laptop.
She sent Alex a pissy, one-sentence email:I hope Cupid’s partner uses less lube next time.
She went to bed, sincerely hoping the next day would be easier.
What she didn’t do: write Ron or R.J.
Texts with Marcus: Saturday Night
Alex:Found out tonight that various men have called Lauren a bitch or a shrew
Alex:If I knew who they were, I swear to God, Marcus
Marcus:You’d … what? Join them? You call her a shrew all the time. Also a harpy.
Marcus:Also a killjoy.
Marcus:Also your dour jailer.
Marcus:Also a harridan.
Marcus:Also a spoilsport, wet blanket, sourpuss, nemesis of joy, enemy of lightheartedness
Marcus:“Maria from The Sound of Music only terrible and incomprehensibly short and without apparent musical inclinations”
Marcus:“if Jane Eyre had been like Nanny Clegg, Rochester would have thrown her into a river instead of pursuing a bigamous marriage with her whilst keeping his poor wife locked in an attic—never mind, I don’t think I want to be Rochester in this scenario”
Marcus:“if this were Les Misérables, I’m totally Valjean, and she’s definitely Javert”
Marcus:“I’ve never related so intensely to Harrison Ford in The Fugitive”
Marcus:“she’s essentially the Terminator, pitiless and unstoppable, and I’m Sarah Connor”
Marcus:“someday, epic poems will be written about my sufferings under her despotic rule”
Alex:Well, I don’t mean ALL the things I say, you know that
Alex:Besides, she thinks my bon mots are funny
Alex:I can tell, her mouth twitches like a millimeter
Alex:Although that could be a nervous tic she’s developed because of me, come to think of it
Alex:Hmmm
Alex:Never mind, it’s definitely a smile, I’ve decided for certain
Alex:And I’ve never called her a bitch, that’d be rude
Marcus:[sarcastic clapping]
Alex:Traitor
Alex:Go on, leave me to suffer while you indulge in yet another sloppy display of public affection with your April
Marcus:Don’t mind if I do
Alex:Marcus?
