“If he don’t want you, sweetheart, I got two hands and can go all fuckin’ weekend.”
Ha.
Haha.
The fucking confidence on this kid.
“Not interested.”
My thumb hooks behind me.
“But yo—if you’re lonely,
“I can find someone for you.
“Got a couple hundred cash in my wallet.”
Mikey freezes for half a second.
Andrew’s laugh hits the back of my head.
Nico chuckles into his cup.
“Damn. Okay.” Mikey lets out a low whistle, leaning back with his drink, draping his arm across the booth. “No wonder Andrew’s being soft.”
// 10:18 PM //
Okay, listen up, mirror slut.
You flinch, you die.
You cry, I punch you.
Doubt yourself once?
I’ll rip your lashes out with tweezers.
Tonight, you’re a statue. You are ice.
You are the great sexy vanilla-scented wall of
I-don’t-give-a-fuck.
You hear some shit about his past? You smile.
You toss it into the pile of:
Not My Fucking Business.
Do. Not. Touch. Him.
Not even by accident.
Not even if he starts reciting poetry
and falls into your mouth.
Don’t fucking interfere.
