He frowns. “Do you think it looks bad?”
“No,” my voice squeaks. “Just… I’m not used to it, I guess?”
“Fuck you,” his eyes narrow.
He stomps to the back room, and I hear him grumbling to someone, presumably his dad. It must be 2AM his time—I’m sure he’s thrilled.
Me:
I don’t know what the fuck he did to his facial hair, but he looks stupid AF.
Like he took the facial hair from a middle-aged man in Wisconsin.
The beard part is gone. And now the mustache is separated from the goatee.
Alice:
Ewwww, no good!!
After a couple of minutes, the back room door opens, and Timmy stomps back into the living room, clearly frustrated.
“Have fun complaining to your dad about me?” I ask.
“No,” he frowns. “I wasn’t complaining about you.”
I roll my eyes.Liar.You weren’t calling your dad at 2AM to ask him about his day.
“Anyways,” he adds, his voice glum. “It wouldn’t work if I did, because my dad fucking loves you.”
Defeated, he flops down on the bed beside me, sulking.
And just like that, another day in the chaotic circus of Timmy’s existence comes to a close.
Only—for me—it’s a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.
CHAPTER 41
LIME JUICE AND LIES
MARGAUX
THE NEXT DAY
Timmy walks over to me, nail clippers in hand. “I’m going to clip my nails over at the beach,” he announces, as if it’s the most normal location to do personal upkeep.
To be fair, I’ve seen people do it in worse places, like a workplace lunch table—but I get the sense this is just another excuse for Timmy to leave the apartment.
“Why are you doing it at the beach?”
“Because I want to,” he sneers. “You can’t control me.” He leaves, the door swooshing closed and beeping behind him.
Me:
Well, he just ran away to the beach to clip his nails.
Alice:
That sounds like a video game excuse.