“Well, you don’t listen.”
“And you don’t think.”
I throw a piece of chicken at him, and he catches it in his mouth.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
He continues to eat, clearly not intending to answer. I give him a few moments of silence before I throw another piece of chicken at him. This time it hits his forehead, a little bit of the juice leaving a mark. I cover my mouth with my hands like that will keep me from breaking out into laughter. It doesn’t work when his brows furrow and his mouth pops open.
I throw my head back, letting it out, with my eyes closed, and a hand on my stomach. When I look back at him, a Brussels sprout hits my chest.
I stand, but before I can grab something, I’m assaulted by three more. I start running towards the living room as he throws more at my back.
Picking up the chips we abandoned, I start whipping Doritos in his direction. At this point, it’s an all-out war as chocolate, pretzels, and full-on mini brownies are getting whipped.
It’s not until the room is destroyed do we stop.
“Oh no,” I say, looking around.
The panic I felt when I threw a party in high school and the house got trashed has returned as I look at the mess we made. I know I should start cleaning up right away, but the last five minutes have zapped me of whatever energy I built up. I slouch onto the couch, my breathing heavy.
“I got it.” He runs into the kitchen and returns with a garbage bag, instantly going to work.
Asking where the vacuum is, he sucks up the remaining crumbs. Thankfully, we didn’t stain anything, so after finishing with a quick mop, everything is almost set to rights.
“Thank you.” I try to get up to give him a hug, but my body feels like lead. So instead, I offer a thumbs up.
“Need help getting to bed?”
“Are you joining me?”
“Do you want me to?”
Many nights, while on the phone, I imagined him curled up next to me. His big arms snaking around my body. The warmth of him causing us to only sleep with a sheet. I want that so bad right nowthat the answer is almost immediate. But then I remember we still haven’t talked about what we are doing.
“Not tonight.”
In the morning, I promise myself that we will sit down and discuss everything, and then tomorrow night, he will be in my bed.
If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He just nods and comes over to pick me up. I use his arm as a crutch, but I won’t let him carry me entirely.
He tucks me in, making sure my phone is on the charger and the covers are tight around me. Then he kisses my forehead and shuts the light off.
Too tired to keep my eyes open any longer, I try to remember how deliriously happy I am as I fall asleep.
Chapter 17
WhenIwakeup,I can still hear Callahan snoring downstairs. Something so loud and abrasive shouldn’t be this cute.
I turn to see it’s 1 p.m., and I have some missed calls from Charlie. I sit up, my body still protesting any movement. Before I get up the courage to call him, I need to talk to Farrah.
“Hello,” she yawns into the phone, reminding me that she is in a different time zone.
“Oh shit, did I wake you up?”
“No, I’m sitting here questioning my life choices. I have to be on set in an hour, and once again, this is at an ungodly time. What’s up?”
I explain to her everything that has happened over the last forty-eight hours. I try not to put emphasis on the fact that I feel like I was proven right, already knowing what she is going to argue. Still, she seems to hear it in my words.
