“I mean, I really fucking hate living people. “Sure. XXX “Really? “What is it?”
I lower my cup a bit, cradling it before me like a safety blanket. Holy God, Jesus Corey, I fucking love you.”
I don’t want to risk him getting any closer. It is one of the reasons I started this home. “I mean, I really fucking hate living people. “Thanks hon, I wanted to look good for you tonight.” He settles a hand on my thigh just below my skirt line. Trotsky, and he’s, like, 80. For years I’d been self conscious about my small chest. “What is it?”
I lower my cup a bit, cradling it before me like a safety blanket.
