I knock on her door. When she opens it, I’m tempted to laugh. She’s a mess. She’s wearing an oversized flannel with no pants, every button is mismatched by one or two holes, and there’s something hanging out of her pocket, is that a pretzel or a churro? I try hard to keep it together, she’s the most adorable trainwreck I’ve ever seen. Fuck, I miss this girl. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but I miss her texts and the anticipation of her videos. What does that say about me? She’s the only woman who could look like this and smell like . . . cheese sauce? And I still want to fuck her
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