For the first time since I woke up this morning, I feel lighter. I beam at her. “Am I rubbing off on you?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, scowling at me like it pained her to say it.
My grumpy girl. “How much did you watch?”
“I only missed the first five, ten minutes of it.” She removes the shell clip from her hair, letting the long wavy locks that were held by it fall with the rest. “I removed something,” she says as if she could hear the question in my head.
“I thought it was just clothes?” I ask anyway.
She shrugs, her lips curling cunningly before they flatten. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t watch a lot of TV. Mom didn’t let me watch it. She said it was a waste of time and I had to focus on swimming. Instead, she’d play the films of my meets and of others, and had me study them for hours. So, I guess I got used to not watching it. I never really picked up a remote.”
Dad was like that at times with soccer then with baseball, but Mom would force him to let us watch other things. I’m grateful for that because at times I felt like I was getting burnt out. It makes me wonder if Josie got burnt out? Is that why she stopped swimming? I want to ask but we agreed, no questions. And I can tell that took a toll on her. She looks less like herself, more like the girl I met seven weeks ago.
Quick, think.“You know, now we’re going to have to rectify that.”
She looks puzzled. “Rectify what?”
“You watching TV. I’m sure you never watched theFinal Destinationseries?” She shakes her head at my question. “You haven’t been privileged of being traumatized like the rest of us. That’s going to change. The log scene will blow your mind.”
“Log scene?” She sounds intrigued.
“Yes, it’s crazy and traumatizing. There’s also this bridge scene and—I’m going to shut up. I don’t want to spoil it for you.Matter of fact, tonight, don’t make any plans, and if you have them, cancel them.”
She lifts a brow in astonishment. “Got any other demands?”
“None as of now, but I’ll keep you updated if anything comes to mind,” I reply, keeping a straight face. “So, you, me, the couch. It’s a date.”
I hear the hitch in her breath and catch the way her chest rapidly expands for a second before it falls. “We live together. It doesn’t need to be a date.”
“It’s Valentine’s Day. Humor me, Jos,” I playfully supply.
I’d prefer it to be real. I want it to be real. I want and need her but…I’m too fucked up. So, playing pretend will probably be the only way I get to have her.
“Will this date include food and drinks?” she questions just as playfully. Although I swear I hear something behind her words, but I’m sure I’m hopelessly and delusionally overthinking it. “Actually, I should probably pay for those. After all, you got me?—”
“Josefine, no. As my date, all I want is for you to be happy and to let me treat you. You won’t be paying for anything, so don’t argue with me. Matter of fact, that’s my second demand. Third is that you keep calling me hot.”
She rolls her lips then they twist as if she were trying to attempt to stop herself from smiling. “You know, you’re very pushy and not so humble from what they’ve said.”
“From what they’ve said? What do you mean?” I tilt my head, eyeing her suspiciously when her cheeks flame and she darts her gaze away from mine.
“You’re supposed to take something off.”
“Josefine.” I take a step forward, close enough I could grab her. “Where did you get that from? Huh?”
“I’m not going to answer that. You already know the answer to it.”
“Tell me.”
“Take something off.”
“Not until you tell me.”
She softly groans, her eyes colliding with mine. “I looked you up. Happy?”
I smirk, playing it cool, but inside, the fireworks are triple what they usually are. “Tell me more. What else did you find?”
“Take something off. I’m done with this conversation. You, me, couch. Date tonight, got it? Let’s move on.”
