Page 58 of Tilly in Technicolor
Often enough, it’s the simple and potent:I am a clingy nightmare and everyone hates meover and over until you kind of start to hate yourself.
But, for the last three days of traveling, theonlythought that seems to go through my head is:Oliver middle-name-that’s-probably-delightfully-British Clark has condoms in his bag and I need to know who he plans to use them with.
It’s none of my business who Oliver has sex with. I know this. I can understand the rationality of that thought and why it is objectively true. But I can’t, for the life of me, get my brain to listen to it.
I keep conjuring up all these fantasy girls that Oliver is in love with, picturing him kissing and touching them in the ways I want for myself. I break my own damn heart over and over again trying to guess what she’ll look like, what she’ll be like. Because I never imagine someone like me. It couldn’t be me. No matter how badly I wish it was.
I’m nostalgic for a life and relationship I’ve never even had.
I will give myself some credit though and say, minus my extremely unchill reaction to finding the condoms, I’ve done a pretty decent job pretending like nothing’s wrong. In fact, Ollie and I are getting along really well. And anytime we’re working together or he’s listening to me go on and on andonwith some infodump, and the feelings I have for him start to build in my chest and clog up my throat, I’ve found that moonwalking out of the room is a safe way to exit and cry in private without him following me.
Our lodgings in Stockholm also provide me some space from Ollie. The hotel doesn’t have connecting rooms, and because they only had one double and one single left, we’ve played sleeping musical mattresses and I’m bunking with Mona and Amina.
“I don’t get why he gets his own room,” I grumble to Mona. She scowls.
“I’m not about to have my eighteen-year-old intern sleep in the same room as his two bosses,” Mona says.
She has a fair point.
“Well,” I say, unzipping my suitcase, “I’m also your intern.”
“You’re my sister first and foremost.”
My mouth twists up, but a little poke of happiness hits me in the ribs. “You’ve got me there. But you also shouldn’t force your co-founder to sleep in the same bed as you when you could easily share with your sister,” I say, flicking an innocent glance at Amina, Mona, and the mattress they’re sitting on.
Mona blushes the color of hot tamales and scooches over so her hip is no longer pressed against Amina’s.
“I—We—I… you thrash in your sleep,” Mona sputters out. “I’m trying to make it out of this trip alive.”
She stands, crossing her arms over her chest and wandering around aimlessly. I’m fully grinning now as my gaze slides to Amina, who’s pressing her lips together to hide a smile. She shoots me a quick wink and I almost scream.
Love them.
Mona’s cell phone rings, and she answers in a clipped tone. “Hello.” Pause. “Oh. Yes. Hi. This is she.”
She’s quiet for a few more moments and that’s about as long as it takes for me to lose interest and start scrolling through my phone.
My most recent Babble post is getting some traction, which is surprising and weird because it was a big, unedited post about how dogs are stimming masters.
Dogs get so excited they shake their butts into little torpedoes, start whining and hopping, then go grab their favorite toys to show you like they’re telling you all about them. And we love that about puppies. Their excitement. Their outpouring of uncontrollable joy, something they wouldn’t dare try and control. Why can’t we love that about humans who stim, too?
I’m reading a comment from someone saying they’re usually embarrassed by their vocal stims, but are going to start looking at them as big puppy energy because of my post, whenMona screams. My soul nearly leaves my body, it startles me so badly.
“You won’t believe this,” Mona says, darting to Amina’s side. “That was the buyer for Vers, the small chain in Amsterdam. They’ve been talking and planning for the fall, and changed their minds. They want to put in an order with us!”
“Shut up!” Amina says, gripping Mona’s hands. “Are you serious?”
“Yes! They asked if we could come in tomorrow to show a few more of the jewel tone samples before they finalized their order.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“Yes, obviously,” Mona says, throwing her arms around Amina. “This could behugefor us.”
Amina squeezes Mona back, rocking gently side to side. They both look so…happy.My heart swells watching them.
Mona breaks the moment, clearing her throat and pulling away, retreating back behind her Professional Lady™walls. “We better get travel figured out,” she says.
Amina’s heart is still on her sleeve and in her eyes when she nods. “On it, darling.”
