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Chapter 50 | Boys Are Stupid

Why would I stop simply because I know it annoys you?
- Alanea Alder

Listen to Safe And Sound by Capital Cities for this chapter.

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I am suffering from something.

Other than my clinicallly diagnosed PTSD. I don't even know what I'm suffering from, all I know is that it's stopping me from accepting everything.

No matter what I do, I can't seem to come to terms with the fact that Asher asked me to be his girlfriend. More importantly, I can't seem to get over the fact that I said yes.

Things are just extremely unreal at the moment.

Delirium. That's the word. A state of delirium. I find myself walking around forgetting what I'm doing halfway, because I'm too busy thinking about other things. This morning I bumped into my mother while I was walking down the stairs and she was walking up.

The problem? Our staircase is big enough to fit two large cars. It's not even an exaggeration. The fact that I bumped into her must make me dangerously blind.

She gave me a lecture about not being so clumsy all the time, and how I ended up hospital the one time (she's still doesn't know) and how it can be dangerous and fatal and other things that I chose to tune out.

All I was, am, thinking about is ... what the actual fudge? I have a boyfriend. And he's kinda amazing, and a lot of other adjectives too. Not that they're all necessarily positive. What has the world come to?

"Honey!" my mother calls, and when I don't respond at first, she tries again, "Wren!"

"Yes?" I say, appearing in front of her while simultaneously chugging orange juice from the carton.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to drink from the carton?"she starts, "Anyway, I'm going to go check on something Victoria wants me to see. Apparently it's for the wedding she's planning for me."

"Mhm," I nod, "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

So apparently Victoria is actually going ahead and planning a real wedding for mom. It's really sweet of her, and I knew deep down that my mother wants a real wedding. Maybe she was holding back because of me. But I'm not going to act as an obstacle anymore, and it took me some time to understand, but I've become less adverse to the idea.

"I know you'll be fine," she says, "I'm just asking you to check whether the mail man comes over. I have no idea how mail delivery is supposed to work in this neighborhood. I haven't gotten my mail for ages. And the hospital refuses to use email for staff!"

"Okay, okay, mom," I say, "I'll check."

So really, when I open the door a few hours later expecting it to be the mail man that my mother sent me to check for, and I encounter Asher instead, it doesn't do any good for my mental state. My brain basically swerves into internal malfunction.

And what he chooses to say at that moment doesn't make my disbelief any better.

"Hey girlfriend," he says, brightly.

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