THE BIG BAD THING
DAMON
“This is your lifeline.”Sage runs her finger down a crease in my palm as I inwardly roll my eyes. “And this is your love line.” Another stupid crease. “And this.” She flicks her cheeky gaze up at me. “And this is your, ‘I’m so blessed to have a friend that will drag my sorry ass out of the house and force me to socialize,’ line.” She tilts her head. “It’s very prominent. How lucky for you, huh?”
I can’t help but smile at her absurdity. “I gave you my address for emergencies, Sage. Not so you can stalk me.”
Sage scoffs, dropping my hand. “I’m the stalker? Me? Please, you’ve been at the dog park every day for weeks now. Well, up until the big bad thing happened. So, if anyone is the stalker, it’syou. Plus, you’ve beenMIA for ten days. That qualifies as an emergency in my books.”
The big bad thing. That’s what Sage is calling it. Personally, I think the word bad doesn’t nearly capture the anguish of the situation, and big somehow doesn’t seem…big enough.
Surprisingly, Sage’s reaction to the big bad thing wasn’t as strong as I expected. I figured she’d scold me, shake her head, and tell me that I was sabotaging my own happiness. But no. I wasn’t met with tough love. I wasn’t met with the devil’s advocate. She simply sighed and forced me to go outside.
It’s unsettling. Her acceptance of my decision. Granted she doesn’t know the whole truth, only that I left, not what led to me leaving. But over the past few months, I’ve learned that Sage has no problem telling me how it is.
Except this time. No prying. No questions.
I should find solace in her understanding. I should use it as a testament that I did the right thing. But her silence alone makes me think that under the layers of, “Well, if that’s what you want,” and, “As long as you’re comfortable with your decision,” that she’s judging me.
“So…” She smiles up at the server as they set two plates of pasta on our table. “Am I going to see you in art class this week?”
I frown at her, picking up a fork. “No. I won’t be going.”
“Oh.” She shrugs, popping a meatball in her mouth. “Okay.”
My grip on the flimsy utensil tightens. I’ve neverdined at a restaurant with such pliable silverware before. “Okay?”
“Mhmm.” She stuffs her conniving little face with spaghetti. “You do you, Damon.”
My jaw tightens. “I will.”
“Good,” she hums.
Frustration courses through me, and I slam my fist on the table. She doesn’t react. “Stop doing that!”
She gazes at me innocently. “Doing what?”
“Being so,” I wave a frantic hand in the empty space between us. “So…annoying.”
“Annoying?” She sets down her fork and leans back into her seat. “How am I being annoying, Damon?”
“You are, and you know it.”
She lifts a brow. “Mmm… I don’t think I do. I’ll need you to elaborate.”
My eye literally twitches. I should’ve never opened my fucking door. “I know what you’re doing, and you need to stop. Whatever reverse psychology crap you’re trying to pull on me won’t work.”
She grins. “Reverse psychology crap?”
“Yeah! This whole, ‘I’m totally fine with your decision to blow up your entire life and have no opinions on the matter.’ Stop it.”
“Oh… So youdothink you’re blowing up your entire life?”
My gaze hardens. “No, I don’t.Youdo.”
“Me?” She dramatically grabs her chest. “I’m not the one who said it.”
“You didn’t have to say it.”
