Actually, I think I’ve forgotten it too.
“We’re something, Cricket,” he says. “And I don’t hate it the way I lie to myself and say I do.”
Well.
That’s something to unpack later.
Probably.
If I remember.
“Is it hot in here?” I ask Heath.
“No, it’s just me.”
He adds a wink, and I laugh until I fall over.
For a day that started as a glitterfied disaster, this is nice.
I think I’ve needed this.
And tomorrow—tomorrow, life will be okay.
I’m sure of it.
18
TEN THINGS I DON’T HATE ABOUT YOU
Heath
A merma-potamus is sittingon my face.
But it’s furry and has a motor and sometimes hisses with its steam engine.
Shouldn’t a merma-potamus have scales on its lower half?
And why does it have a motoranda steam engine?
And why is it digging its claws straight into my brain and also clucking?
Wait.
Wait.
I’m dreaming.
Nightmaring.
I’m nightmaring.
Someone groans beside me.
Someone female.
And warm.
And squished up right beside me?
