My thumb freezes above the screen keyboard, and I suck in my bottom lip.
Well, there's Groover. He's single. And people say he's hot, something I've never wondered about and definitely won't wonder about now, because that feels like incest. Yuck.
But Groover would absolutely murder me for playing matchmaker Besides, he's beenon fire—well, on fire on ice technically—ever since he got rid of that doofus Julian. I'm not fucking with that.
And then there's Devon.
Devon's gay. Single, I think. And…
Is he hot? He's cute. He's good-looking. He's…
My mind drifts back to the kiss before I can stop it.
Fuck. Yeah, Devon's hot. There, I said it, and that should be enough to scare me, but it's not the scary part.
Because the scary part is, I definitely,definitelydon't feel like offering Devon to anyone else for reasons I'm too chickenshit to examine.
Because I'm a dog, apparently. A dog in the fucking manger.
Need_Tailor_Chicago:Sorry. No one comes to mind.
At this point, I'm not sure why I'm even keeping this conversation going. Every other thing I type is a lie.
OnlyNewRadicals_69:damn. worth a shot.
OnlyNewRadicals_69:guess i'll just have to keep trying to corrupt you then??
Need_Tailor_Chicago:Good luck with that.
I set my phone on my chest and stare at the ceiling.
All of this is getting out of hand. Confusing. Overwhelming.
I really need to talk to someone. Get some guidance. A therapist, maybe. Or Groover.
Yeah, Groover would be cool about it. Well, obviously. And Groover would have advice, and good advice because he's, well, Groover.
But Groover's at the bar right now, fucking up someone's drink as we speak, and I don't even have a therapist, and…
Well, this guy is right here. Available. And more importantly, anonymous.
I run my palm over my face, then pick up my phone.
Need_Tailor_Chicago:I lied.
OnlyNewRadicals_69:rude. what about?
I stretch my fingers like I'm preparing for a five-hour-long crocheting session and start typing. I stare at the message. Then delete. Type it again. Delete.
I'm being ridiculous. They're just words. I suck in my lower lip and hit send.
Need_Tailor_Chicago:About being straight.
Then, I keep typing.
Need_Tailor_Chicago:I think.
Need_Tailor_Chicago:I mean, I don't know anymore. That's the problem.
