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“You’re a Ravenclaw,” she finishes for me.
“Exactly.”
“Perfect.” Her manicured fingers continue tapping against the keyboard as she keeps filling out my form before she gives me a nod and pushes the computer toward me.
“Alright, Say. Here’s the questionnaire portion. Let’s see whatcha got.”
The next twenty minutes go by in a blur of questions that range from favorite color to favorite sex position. By the time I’m finished, the wine bottle is empty, along with two more we’d pulled from the cabinet, and we’re both rolling on the floor laughing at the innuendos we’ve woven into my answers. Favorite animal: a big, fat snake and a good ol’ rooster, aka cock. Favorite food: foot-longs. Favorite activity: Football.
The last one might not have been an innuendo but made me laugh harder than the rest of them.
“I used to love football, ya know,” I mention. Now, I hate it.
“I know. The Big O introduced the whole family to its awesomeness, remember?”
My smile is bittersweet as I return, “Yeah. Do you remember when we’d go to his games together?”
She nods. “We’d get all bundled up when it would snow, and you’d always wear his letterman jacket over your hoodie.”
“He said he liked seeing me with his name on my back because it showed everyone who I belonged to. He’d tell me that one day, he’d have a ring on my finger too. That even though we were young, he wasn’t afraid to claim what he loved.”
With our backs leaning against the couch, her head on my shoulder, and our asses on the floor, she mutters, “Then he had to go and ruin everything.”
“Yup. Bastard.”
“And now, it’s time for payback.”
I giggle and nudge her shoulder, making her sit up instead of using me as a pillow. “This is a terrible idea. You know that, right?”
“Maybe,” she admits, though it doesn’t stop the grin from stretching across her face. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t also a little genius. Come on, let’s pull up his profile.”
The computer chimes before giving me the chance.
“I believe that is your first notification, Snake Lover,” Skye announces. “Let’s see what it says.”
The screen is bright as we both scramble toward it.
Nolan345: Hey.
“Hey?” Skye repeats, unamused. She turns to me. “That’s it?”
“Apparently?”
“You should respond.”
“With what? Hey?” I reply sarcastically.
“I would. If he wants to start it off boring, then let him be the one to keep the thing going.”
“Fiiine,” I drag out the word before typing my response.
Slytherin4ever: Hey.
Nolan345: Your photos are set to private.
I roll my eyes.
“Duh,” Skye mutters. “It’s not like we could show your face to Owen.”
