LL
And you were right. It is.
I smiled.
LL
Cody is nice too.
My smile widened.
Dezi
Thanks
LL
Though you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?
My cheeks warmed without warning. I didn’t expect him to ask again. I slid my hand into the back of my hoodie to rub my neck, and yeah. It was hot.
But that was probably from the hot sauce making its way to my stomach only to destroy me again later.
I pulled my hood tighter around my face, wondering how to respond in a way that didn’t sound pathetic and wasn’t an outright lie.
I was twenty-two, failing at an art class I didn’t even want to take, working a job that was slowly sucking the soul from my body, my friend left town without a word—but really, fuck you, Ace—and my best friend, my ride-or-die, was… I didn’t even know what.
Yep. I was killin’ it.
With my hands frozen over the keyboard, something in the general vicinity of shame gnawed at me as I flicked my gaze to my failed art, the grotesque lines of her face doing nothing to soothe me.
Dezi
Sure. But my Mona Lisa sucks. And if I think, type, or say “Mona Lisa” one more time today, I will walk into the Gulf and let nature take its course.
There. That was honesty. And dramatic as fuck.
His reply was instant.
LL
Oh, don’t do that.
LL
Tell me how I can help.
Stacy’s sudden reappearance about had me jumping out of my seat. She wordlessly cleared one of my two plates away, refilled my coffee—setting it back to square one for flavor—and slapped a purple pen on the table, the rise of her penciled-in eyebrow daring me to ask for more.
I picked up the pen and held it to my heart. “Thank you, cher.”
Once I doctored my coffee again and took a fortifying sip, I turned back to my computer and fell back into conversation with a stranger.
Dezi
Do you really think you can help me? It’s pretty damn bad
LL
