“And is that late start still there?” My mouth lowers to reply yet before I can even consider a clever answer a hiccup escapes prompting him to point a stern finger at me. “Don’t try to lie to me.”
Ohforcryingoutloud,why oh why of all the tells a person could have did mine have to be hiccups?!
Anytimeandevery timea lie could come out or is about to come out, I hiccup instead.
It’s fucking weird and unfortunate and a built-in lie detector I did not need.
It’s also the reason no one tells me about super-secret surprises anymore.
Or asks me about spoilers for shows.
Or invites me to play poker.
Not that I’m a huge fan of the latter.
I’d rather play trivia games.
Post a hard swallow, I slowly announce, “I am…currently…alone…in my bedroom.”
“Very specific, sis.”
“Very nosey, bro.”
He lightly laughs and teasingly waves his finger at me. “Did you wait ‘til I went on vacay to get some?”
“Not,” a hiccup displays itself, “exactly.”
“Clearly not the whole truth.”
“Yet,” another hiccup, “not a whole,” a third, “lie.”
“You sound so sussy.”
Words aren’t given a chance to form.
Just more hiccups.
“Given that you’ve never been into wheeling just to wheel, I’m going to assume the broskie hiding in your bathroom actuallymeanssomething to you, so tell him I look forward to getting to know him over a brewskie when I get back.”
Another pang of guilt slams into my chest, knocking away the hiccups for something worse.
So.
Much.
Worse.
“I need to go get ready,” meekly escapes on a small adjustment of my phone.
“We both definitely need to hose off,” he playfully pokes with a wink.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“I love you too,” M laughs once more prior to ending the call.
