My eyes hurt, and I’m tired. The list of bodily ailments goes on.
The numbers in this equation may as well be letters.
Oh wait,they are.
I slip my glasses off, setting them on the table instead of throwing them across the apartment like I want to.
“Good, you finally stopped doing homework.” Karli slides into a chair beside me at the kitchen table, bringing with her the smell of Christmas.
“Why do you smell like a tree farm?” A stronger scent wafts over me, and I holdback a gag.
“It’s pine. It came in my oil box this month. You like?”
No. I don’t like. It’s giving me a headache, and now I’ll never be able to finish my homework. “Are you sure it’s meant to be worn?”
“Of course,” she says, but she scratches her temple. “Anyway, I signed up for a dating app, and I’m going to make you an account, too. Give me your phone.”
And this is why I usually work in my room. She always has some new request of me.Let’s sneak into that new club downtown. Want to help me egg my ex’s truck?
No. The answer is always no. I love Karli like a sister, but I don’t indulge in her unpredictable activities. I would like to make it through college without getting arrested.
I stare at her, which is hard to do without my glasses. I think I’m looking at her eyes.
“You know I refuse to participate in online dating.” Or real-life dating. I gave it a go for a minute, so I could say I tried, but it was a bust.
Karli taps her fake nails on the table. “It’sjusta dating app. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I put my glasses on so I can properly give her the crazy eyes that comment deserves. “Are you new to this planet? Catfished, kidnapped, sliced into unrecognizable pieces and scattered across the desert to be eaten by vultures.”
“Girl, you need to lay off the true crime.” She rolls her eyes. I attempt to protest, but she tilts her head to the side and levels me with a stare. “I saw you almost punch the mailman yesterday.”
Oops.
In my defense, who taps somebody on the shoulder when they areclearlylistening to the curious crimes of Miles Carrigan?
“It’s not an addiction.” I jut out my chin. “I can stop anytime I want.” I mean, right after I finishthe episodes. No one wants to be called a quitter.
“So what? You’re going to hide away forever?” Karli asks.
I give her a thumbs up. “That’s the plan. I’m quite content in my terrified little bubble with my limbs securely attached.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Karli raises a suspicious brow. “Really. Like what?”
“Like…” Can I really not think of anything? My roommates call me a goody two shoes. Which I find personally offensive. Because I'm totally not. I enjoy doing, you know, good things. Safe things. Just not likeallthe things. “Like Rapunzel.”
“Wow,” Karli deadpans. “What a tragic life you live.”
“It was a very tragic night.” It wasn’t the worst. I’ve had my fair share of awful dates, but it was the date that turned me into a nun for the past year. The day I decided I don’t need romance, of any kind. I have three semesters left before I finish my mathematics degree. I won’t waste time worrying about pointless stuff like feelings and hormones.
“Come on. Let me set one up for you,” Karli pleads. She’s used to getting her way. If her parents didn’t give it to her growing up, she took it. She’s since matured.
“Don’t make me steal your homework,” she taunts.
A little. She’s matured a little.