I always feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin with discomfort. Doesn’t matter what type of premium mattress or silky sheets I’m on. Doesn’t matter the type of incense or diffuser nonsense Jude buys religiously and puts in my room. He’s always falling for propaganda about some product that “scientifically” helps with sleep—now a lavender diffuser is vaporizing by my bedside.
This will always be the worst part of my day.
I’d rather be beaten to within an inch of my life by Lenin than this.
Pain is better than being helpless.
But pain isn’t endless, unfortunately.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, pulling me back to the present.
I turn to my side and check it. That chronic illness I need to find medicine for squeezes my chest as I read the text.
Headache
Are we back to the ghosting game?
I scoff. So yeah, maybe I haven’t replied to his texts since that night. What? He was the one who blocked me and was playing hard to get.
So he had to pay.
Also, no idea how to deal with the pest now.
Especially after his texts that night.
Are you okay?
Jude led you away, and you were surprisingly obedient as he fawned all over you, so I assume you’re doing perfectly well.
I’ll see you before the next game. We need to talk.
There’snothingwe need to talk about. Zilch. Nada.
We’re not friends. The best we can be is fuck buddies, and heneedsto accept that.
My phone vibrates again.
Headache
If you refuse to text me back, I’ll assume you’re acting like a shy virgin after you kissed me so hungrily on that cliff.
Me
I did NOT kiss you so hungrily.
Are you sure? You looked ready to crawl out of your own skin. Hard to fake that kind of passion.
I can refer you to a therapist to deal with your pathological level of delusion.
Or you can just admit you liked kissing me.
I’ve had better.
With whom?
None of your business.
You can’t tell me you’ve had a better kiss with someone else, then say it’s none of my business, Preston. I’m asking you again. Who was it?
