Twenty-Eight | 💋

2.9K 196 128
                                    


"The best thing to do when you find yourself in a hurting or vulnerable place is to surround

yourself with the strongest, finest, most positive people you know."

- Kristin Armstrong


It's considered rude to self-invite, at least that was what I learned

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.




It's considered rude to self-invite, at least that was what I learned. I couldn't text Sugar: "Can I come over?"

I could instead ask her to come over to my place. The question held many interpretations: secluded, intimate, one-on-one space in an unfamiliar location. What could happen? What would be my motivation? I could almost imagine Sugar's face, scrunched up, mouth closed. Nose turned red. And fast, side to side, head shaking, "No."

Sugar had never been to my apartment.

And probably never will.

That thought gnawed at my brain.

Will she be comfortable around me in my home? Would she even give a second to think before already having a pre-conceded judgement?

I stared up at my apartment ceiling. The sharp motion etched on the material, a reminder of how the builders completed the final step. A black dot appeared to be moving, I closed my eyes and then opened. The dot . . . I guessed it stayed. I rubbed my index fingers over my eyelids, groaning.

The past several months, Sugar allowed me to touch her. Her knuckles, thumbs, and clammy hands; her shoulders in mid-hug, even the quick side hug where our hips met, and the palm of my hands rubbed her back. Well... most of those were instigated by her.

Her warm breath.

Thin upper lip, bottom lip fuller – baby pink taunting.

That freakin' air kiss.

She's comfortable and more confident, I argued with myself. She might say yes. Maybe? She could if I say it's work related. Yeah. That'll ease her mind.

I completed my two solo interviews, I felt like the questions focused on my journey with the women. Sugar. I took calm, even breaths. My answers flowed, words came easy and continued, almost as if I spoke too much; the descriptions long-elegant, well I believed I did. The experience differed from my Penelope episode. Three weeks had gone by since we had our last session. May had sunshine and new blooms, landscapers dumped rich, dark mulch. Summer fever.

I needed to update her: Hazel's reports, release date, Penelope left the team . . . and about them.

Without this project, would we continue . . . whatever this is. What does she want? I-I think I know what I want. What'll happen?

Time to go back to TrueMatch?

Bagels.com?

FarmersMarket?

Fake It | ✔️Where stories live. Discover now