Was that line of thinking any better than me assuming that there was an innate flaw in my system, rendering meun-dateable?
Did such a thing exist? Was that even a word?
Whatever adrenaline had coursed through my veins when he was here, and his lips were on mine, disintegrated into oozing desperation the second he walked out the door. Desperation to feel validated—wanted.
Desperation to feel needed.
I grabbed my phone from the couch, stared at the screen, then threw it back on the cushion. Minerva couldn’t be bothered to deal with such trivial things—like her human having a full-on mental war with an unknown assailant.
She surveyed me from on top of her cat tree in the corner, her fluffy tail flicking back and forth like a metronome.
“You’re not helping.” She didn’t care that her lowly human was clearly suffering. Perhaps Her Majesty would give a flying fuck if her dinner of raw tuna and mixed vegetables was more than a minute late.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the pretentious animal, and continued pacing.
After grabbing my phone and throwing it back the third time, I caved and opened my messages. I mostly feared that in a fit of rage and confusion, I’d drop the phone on the coffee table and shatter the screen.
Me:Come over.
Me:Right now.
Me:Please. Things are happening.
Marietta:*GIF of question marks*
Angelina:*GIF of person running*
Rose:Do we need carbs or alcohol?
Me:Pizza.
Angelina:Even better. I’ll pick one up with that weird vegan cheese on the way.
Marietta:Stand by, babe. We got you.
Within an hour, I was showered and elbow-deep in a bottle of wine, wearing Ravenclaw pajamas and polar bear slippers. So what if it was eighty degrees outside? This situation called for flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers. My curls were tamed in two fishtail braids, and my nails were bitten down to the quick. I was debating if I had enough time to make French toast whenthe doorbell rang, and Angelina elbowed her way in, holding two pizza boxes.
I popped up from the couch and grabbed the pies, breathing in the scent of basil and tomatoes.
My mouth watered as she followed me into the kitchen, grabbing a wineglass and plates from the cabinet.
“You’re okay, right? You look okay, physically, that is. Maybe a little overdressed for it being sweltering outside. The idiot headmaster isn’t insisting you get married or something now, is he? It’s not your dad, hopefully. I swear, I know they are your parents, but sometimes I want to drop-kick that man in the ’nads for how he guilt trips you.”
She paused and raised an eyebrow before serving us both a slice of pizza and walking back to the living room. I followed, putting the food on the coffee table before clenching my fists and opening my mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.
The words wouldn’t come as I stared at Angelina, whose eyebrows were now north of her hairline.
“I’m here for all the things, babe, but I’m going to need actual words. Telekinesis is not one of my superpowers.”
I opened my mouth again and breathed, ready to unleash the typhoon of words swirling around my brain.
“I—”
“We’re here!” Rose called, opening the front door, holding several quarts of Italian ice, followed closely by Marietta. They disappeared into the kitchen to either put the dessert in the freezer or grab spoons as my mouth snapped closed, teeth clacking together while my left eye twitched.
They looked at each other, then back at me. We were at a stalemate—not intentionally, of course. It was more like my sanity was hanging by a thread, and the moment I said one word, a million more would pour out, and the girls would back awayslowly until I was alone again with nothing but my thoughts and fluffy slippers.
“What’s the drama, llama?” Marietta asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Are we forgoing pizza for wine?” She gestured to the untouched slices and half-empty bottle as Rose brought the boxes into the living room. “Someone needs to spill the tea so we can react accordingly.”
