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MEGAN: It pleases me greatly that ‘kissing’ and ‘fucking’ have the same number of letters so that works.
ME: I’m blocking your number now.
I wasn’t going to block her number and she knew it.
It was hard being the adult in the friendship.
At least I assumed so. We didn’t really have one. I pretended to be annoyed, but all of that was something I’d say to her if the situation were reversed, so… You know.
It was one of those things.
Today, I needed to seek out Esme and discuss the book club with her. It was tomorrow, and I wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted me to do.
Quite honestly, May gave me the willies. She was stern and judgemental, and while I was used to visiting book clubs to talk about my books, they were usually a bit bigger than four older ladies.
And online.
Where I could claim connection issues if I was getting uncomfortable.
I didn’t think the old, “Oh, my WiFi is dipping!” excuse would cut it in person. I wasn’t exactly connected to it, so…
I double-checked the document on my laptop, making sure it had saved. It had, but I decided to save a copy to both my hard drive and my online drive. I’d given in to the voices and allowed the fictional people to have very long, very hot sex in a library while barely knowing each other, and I was rather proud of that scene.
I didnotwant to lose it because I’d jinxed the internet.
I emailed myself a version to trebly make sure it was safe, then checked on Winston. He was curled up on my bed in the sun with his fluffy tail wrapped around his entire body, and he peeled his eyes open when I stepped on a creaky floorboard. He stared at me with the kind of contempt reserved for cats to dish out, and he was only placated when I approached him and gave him the good scritches under his chin.
“Who’s a handsome puss?” I cooed in a baby voice.
You know that one voice everyone pretends they only use for babies but actually use for all their animals?
Coochie-coochie-coooo.
Kissy-kissy.
Such a big stretch for such a little boy!
God, I was such a sucker for that cat.
Winston happily accepted my loving, then shot me a look of disgust when I stopped. I was pretty sure he knew I was leaving the house.
Well, he was going to have to deal with it.
He wouldn’t be leaving.
I hoped.
See? I truly was an optimist.
Esme had come by yesterday and told me that she lived on a cottage on the estate, and that I couldn’t miss it. It was apparently grey stone with a bright yellow door and a front garden planted as a rainbow.
It sounded as though it would be perfect for her.
Unfortunately, despite the open invitation to drop by, she hadn’t told me exactlywherethe cottage was, but given me some rather vague instructions. I think she assumed I could just… find it… like I was Google Maps or something.
I didn’t have a built-in GPS, sadly, and I was somewhat directionally challenged. The only reason I’d made it to Windermere in one piece was because it was signposted every few yards.
At least that was what it felt like.
