Moe Rivas has spent her whole life waiting for the perfect storybook romance, but as she approaches her senior year of college -- single, and incredibly disappointed with the male species -- she decides she's sick of daydreaming. Turning her back on...
"Yeah, and I'm just a little sick. What's his damn name, Roe?"
I glared at the peeling paint on the wooden balustrade. What would confessing to a dying man really cost me? Who better to confide in than Jay?
"...His name is Theo."
My uncle repeated the name like a foreign word he planned to look up later. "Theo, huh? And what does Mr. Theo do? Is he a student?"
"He's interested in cancer research." I ignored the impressed look I received. "He lost his mom to brain cancer. And you've already met his sister, Charlie. She used to help out at the hospital."
"What, little Brace Face?" His eyebrows kissed his hat. "How about that."
I waited for him to make a joke at my expense, but all he did was smile at a family piling into their Subaru down below. The youngest kids argued with each other over seating arrangements, and one of the girls immediately started crying when her demands were ignored—the kind of high-pitched shriek that impales the eardrums. Their parents exchanged tired looks before slipping into the car with a party dish, and I swore the whole vehicle began rocking back and forth, incapable of containing the chaos.
"So...is that it?" I asked. "No words of caution? No follow-up questions?"
Jay smirked at me. "Nah. I just wanted confirmation."
"Of what?"
"That some boy had weaseled his way into my niece's life, and even more remarkably, under her skin. I never thought I'd live to see the day." He snickered. "Almost didn't!"
I scowled at his morbid sense of humor. "Yeah, well, all splinters work their way out eventually. It's nothing to get excited about."
"Right, right. Of course," he agreed, but his knowing smile lingered.
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While Judas was defrosting, I decided to text Theo and let him know it was a bad day for sex. This would be the first weekend I'd miss because of my period, and honestly, canceling on him was a little...nerve-wracking.
How was I supposed to tell my fuck buddy I didn't want to fuck?
The idea stressed me out, and I think a small part of me feared I'd immediately be replaced. It was a silly feeling that stemmed from anxiety—and perhaps an ugly source of insecurity too. It wasn't like I believed everything Alyssa said, but her comment had still infected the overthinker in me. You're not even his type, she'd insisted. You're just a placeholder. A toy.
And I knew part of that was true. I was a temporary fix, not a long-term solution. For all intents and purposes, I was a toy. One he'd eventually grow tired of—or lose. But I wasn't quite done with him yet.
So...I've got cramps, I texted him. And I'm sort of bleeding out. It's probably not a great night for us. I'm really sorry. See you next week?
