Page 5 of Mostly Loathing You

She responds with a shrug as she pulls the throw pillow into her lap, lifting the remote to turn on the TV.

Dozing off, I jerk awake thinking that no time has passed, and Sage is still next to me. I peek down at my phone and see that it’s now nearing 2:00 AM.

Jeez.

“I’m going to bed.”

Once again, Sage nods, not pulling her attention from the episode ofHell’s Kitchenthat has her enraptured. Popcornlitters her blanket, but she barely seems to notice as her eyes are glued to the screen. Walking past her, I grab the now-empty bowl of popcorn and put it in the sink. I make my way back to my new bedroom, only to be reminded that I didn’t put the sheets on my bed earlier in the day, when I insisted I would remember.

Apparently…not.

Typically, I would take the time to do it, but as my head hits my pillow, I pull a throw blanket off the stack of clothing and laundry Gen had unpacked earlier and nod off, naked mattress and all.

THREE

LIAM

“How is it that we continue to have this conversation?” Jackson says, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Because I am forced to see you continuously bring that MacBook in every day.”

“It’s my computer…”

“It’s just further evidence that the masses will always choose an inferior product if it looks cool.” I laugh, tossing a ball in Jackson’s direction.

He is unfortunately becoming much more attuned to knowing when I’m about to throw something, as he catches it with ease, stopping it inches from his face. Setting the ball down on his desk, Jackson continues typing away on his god-awful MacBook, refusing to engage the topic any further.

“So, marriage, huh?” I say, leaning back in my desk chair, playing with a fidget toy in my hand.

“Yes, marriage. Was there a question in there?” Jackson looks up from his computer, his brows raising in the process.

“The question is…you’re getting married, huh?”

“You were there…” Jackson doesn’t seem to be as amused as me as I’ve been distracting him for most of the morning.

“Yeah, I know…” I contemplate my words for a moment, “but marriage?”

“Yes, marriage,” Jackson scoffs.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean that in a shitty way. I like Gen, but aren’t we a little young to be getting married?”

“You are too young…at least…intellectually.I, however, happen to like the idea of declaring in front of our friends and family how much I love Gen.”

“Fair, fair.”

Marriage is a concept I’ve just never understood. I realize the fault in that logic as I’ve never been in a long-term committed relationship, so I realize that I might just not get it…but what’s the point?

Knock.

Our heads jerk toward the door as it slowly opens, revealing my dad standing in the doorway, his coffee in hand.

“Hello, boys,” he says with a grin, closing our office door behind him.

People say I look like my dad thirty years ago, and while the years between us make it harder to draw the comparison, I definitely see the similarities. He’s Korean and I am therefore half Korean—obviously, that’s kind of genetic—but I like to think I inherited his hair. Well into his fifties and the man still has a full head of hair; fingers crossed I age the same way.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

“Good morning to you too, Liam.”

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