Page 67 of Love Harder

Had a mouse snuck into the room?

The mouse was in fact Brooklyn eating Reese’s Butter Cups like he was preparing for a zombie apocalypse.

I got the ick.

This early on…this wasn’t good.

He then slurped his McDonald’s soda.

Surely, this was done.

Nope.

More rustling.

More eating.

More slurping.

There is no coming back from the ick…

I woke up to his alarm.

He wished me a good day and said that he would see me later.

The ick has subsided a little, but when I saw the empty candy and chocolate wrappers thrown around the room like confetti, it returned because the little bish never goes once the ick has been had.

I told Frankie the deets as friends do, and she was happy for me. But she could see I wasn’t goo goo gaga over this man.

He came over for dinner, and again, it was comfortable and relaxed.

He stayed again that night.

I was terrified of what loomed.

Please, for the love of god, please do not let it be a repeat of the previous evening.

We had sex, and it was a little better than the night before. But the ick was sitting on the sidelines, eating popcorn and shaking her head.

Was he the alpha he said he was?

No.

Did he live up to talks of his big game?

No.

But again, it didn’t matter because I enjoyed our time together.

And so did he.

He texted me that day to tell me that in case I didn’t know. I liked that he reassured me, as he knew what an overthinker I am.

He laid a kiss on my forehead that morning he left and told me he’d miss me.

That was the last night he would stay.

It was my last night before I left for another state.

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