And why do I feel like I have no right to be pissed off by it?
I guess I don’t.
I meanI’mthe one usinghimto discourage my ex from continuing to pursue me.
I’mthe one who purposely chose what appeared to be the clean cut, well put together, most likely to be voted America’s Sweetheart to make the bad boy, man ho, thinks he can have any woman in the world without trying asshat jealous.
I’mthe one who got this fake shit in motion, so I’m definitely the one who has the least claim to being indignant.
Okay, but like I am, anyway.
Totally about to step into the clingy, fuck off, this is my man, role I’ve played before.
Although this time I’m not sure I’ll be pretending for the sake of the media that’s watching.
Andof course,they’re watching.
They always are.
Even with J.T. and I both having sent body doubles elsewhere for them to stalk during what we had both planned to be a paparazzi free getaway.
Forcibly swallowing my irritation precedes me playfully elbowing my phony boyfriend. “You failed to mention your best friend was a fucking drop dead gorgeous bish.”
“Aw,” Bryn theatrically coos, “youI TNG approve of him banging unlike that raggedy cunt blowup doll that went Chucky on my family.”
“That’s not…” his head profusely shakes as our stares find each other’s once more. “Th-th-that didn’t…” More head shakes. Stammers. “It…it…wasn’t…” Additional flashes of frustration are accompanied by cringes. “She wasn’t actually a blowup doll.”
“I like those a lot more than I ever did her.”
“I don’thavea blowup doll,” J.T. quickly insists.
“But to be fair I like the orcas inThe Voyage Homemore than I liked her, and I fuckinghatethose dolphin demon descendants.”
“I’veneverhad a blowup doll,” my pretend partner shamelessly confesses louder than he probably intended considering the random glances he suddenly receives. Redness swiftly seeps into his cheeks prompting him to snip at her, “This is why I hate you.”
“Love me.”
“Tolerate you.”
“Needme.”
“Need spacefromyou.”
“Siblings.” Warm giggles of relief escape into the air. “You two are basically siblings.”
“Yeah,” they retort in tandem, allowing additional reprieve to settle into the situation.
“Nightwing over here has never done it for me.” Her thumb kicks itself towards him while he resumes texting. “But his Bat bestie?” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, moans, and bounces in place. “That’s my Mr. Wayne. ‘Til death or Day Octopus do us part.”
J.T. momentarily halts typing to uncomfortably claim, “You said they don’t hunt humans.”
“Theydon’t, but like most creatures in the ocean, they definitely possess FAFO.”
“You told Wes they were safe for us to swim around! That doesn’t sound safe!”
“Is he here too?” I kindly investigate. “Wes?”
“Nah. Mr. Wilcox isn’t really that intoStar Trekshit.”
