Liar.The annoyingvoice in my head cackles as my belly does that flopping-fish routine every time I’m with Cal. Or when I’m thinking about him. Or talking to him.
Hockey Boy:
Brat.
Now why did you text me if all you were going to do was make fun of me?
I can’t help it. I giggle.
Full on, cheesy, can’t-hold-it-back-glad-I’m-alone giggle. I haven’t been a brat in so long, I’m delighted he called me one.
Hockey Boy:
Tots? Did I put you to sleep?
I wish. Cal putting me to sleep is an idea that’s latched itself onto my brain since I met him. Lust at first sight. I knew it existed, but it had never happened to me before.
That moment I first saw him is seared into my memory. Except now, I know his eyes are the calm green of the forests on the perimeter of Monterey, beckoning you to get lost in them. I know that, when the sun hits his face, it picks up flecks of hazel which glitter in mischief when he teases me.
But he hasn’t shown any interest in a sleep-is-a-euphemism arrangement with me. Not since that first night at Block on Wood.
Waaaaiiiiit.
Did I get friendzoned without realizing it?
Hockey Boy:
You didn’t even say goodnight :( 3
Just because I’m hot doesn’t mean I don’tget hurt
And just like that, my self-recriminating thoughts are pushed away.
Me:
You’re ridiculous. I’m awake.
Hockey Boy:
What’s keeping you up?
Me:
Not sure. Just. . . restless.
And this show is going to give me nightmares.
Hockey Boy:
Show?
I glance at the paused screen.
Me:
Dating the Ex.
Hockey Boy: