Page 66 of Girls Will Be Girls
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WHEN THE SPICE GIRLS TOLD ME TO SPICE UP MY LIFE, I DIDN'T THINK A RUMORED SMALL TOWN BETTING POOL ABOUT ME WOULD BE ON THE CARDS
Buck:
You better be taking the theme seriously
Do you have a costume?
Louisa:
I’m working on it
Buck:
Work harder
Louisa:
Maybe you should show Willie this bossy side, he might like that kind of thing…
“Why doesyours look like that when mine is like a flaccid third arm?” Casey huffs as she smashes her clay flat onto the wheel.
I bark out a laugh. “Because I’m making a measly little trinket bowl, you went straight for a vase.”
She whacks her clay around some more. “The people on TikTok make it look so easy.”
“Regretting coming with me yet?” I ask.
She bobs her head from side to side. “Nah. I’m regretting not fighting you more about bringing my fake ID.”
I continue pinching the wobbly edge of my bowl while it spins. “There’s is no way in hell I’m letting you get in trouble meredaysbefore your own ID will work.”
“Still.” She says. “Ceramics & Sipwithout the sipping seems counterproductive.”
“I happen to enjoy my ceramics with a side of soda.” I lean down to the side table to take a sip of my Diet Coke through a straw while keeping my wet grey hands in the air.
Casey does the same. “That’s because you’re ancient.” She swallows. “The sugar is probably making you drunk enough.”
I look at her with my mouth wide open. “Your generation is brutal.”
She shrugs and goes back to crafting a slightly less flaccid, more stocky tower. I believe the words she mumbles to herself are,“It should be a linebacker, not a quarterback.”
I had Casey explain the more nuanced rules of football to me yesterday after I found out that she didn’t start watching it for Travis Kelce like the rest of us. I’m not ashamed that I was on that bandwagon, and I’ve never been more jealous than I was of the person in our office who got to interview him about hisEras Tourperformance.
It was my Roman Empire.
I could bet money that Lou proves the Roman Empire theory. I could bet my life savings he is weirdly into something like the Roman aqueducts. I just feel it in my bones.
It’s been mere hours since we played another round of fake fianceè, and I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like when you’re eating something with questionable texture and your brain decides at that moment to think of the grossest memories you have in a cruel attempt to make you puke, except Lou is the opposite of nauseating. He’s a wonderful yet unwelcomethought. Like dreaming about snow, a burning fireplace, and spiked hot chocolate when you’re in the heat of summer. I know once it gets below freezing, I’ll be wishing for summer again, begging for warmth and cut-off jeans, but I still can’t help myself from daydreaming about being cozy in twinkly lights.
I find myself unable to stop daydreaming about Lou.
I know I’m perfectly allowed. I know he likes me, I know I like him. I know why he wants us to take it slow, but him listening to me and my boundaries makes me want to say hell to it even more. That’s how low the bar is. Respect my boundaries, equals let’s have sex. Preferably immediately.
I can feel my attraction towards him growing by the second, but I’m a little anxious about what us dating is gonna be like. Because there is still the teeny tiny fact that we live in different states. I don’t want to do long distance. My second love language is physical touch — after words of affirmation — I’ll starve without him near me.
“Can you hold this part?” Casey points to the bottom of her wavy vase, which is starting to look more like a pasta bowl. She’s overcorrected.
