I close my eyes, and a few seconds later I feel the impact of a pillow hitting me on the face. “Hey!” I shout. “What was that for?” “For being an idiot. Jesus, Travis. Why don’t you cooperate? I’m trying to be nice. I really am. But you’re not making my life easy!” Emilia returns to sit down on the stool in front of the laptop and speakers and hand me a microphone. “Just try. Please.” “Fine.” I scoff and roll my eyes. “But don’t you ever fucking hit me again, okay?” “If I have to, I will.” She retorts, and I huff. Christ, she’s going to give me gray hair, and I’m too young to deal with that.
