Attached at the Hip

by Christine Riccio

We’re Orie and Wes, childhood friends to lovers!

My anxiety is so obnoxious. It can’t just torture me silently; it has to turn me into a wet carrot.

I feel a little like I thought I was being sent to the moon, got on the rocket, and was told mid-launch I’m actually on an uncharted speed-dating-themed mission to Pluto.

“I like a lot of words. They slip into my bloodstream and inspire me to keep putting one foot in front of the other when nothing else can.”

“So.” Kennedi pauses. “Who’s this one person you’ve felt sexually attracted to thus far? It sounds like you’ve been intimate?” “We’ve kissed,” I say carefully. “And that person’s not your ex.” “Um … no.” “But you were with the ex for ten years.” Crap. “Yeah …” I cover my face with my hands. “So, you kissed Remy? The one person was Remy. Oh my god, how was it!”

“Fear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up. That’s a powerful perspective shift.”

“She says we have to feel our feelings so we don’t become them. They creep up on us.”

“In the end, it’s not about messing it up or knocking it out of the park, it’s about getting up off the couch and doing it in the first place. Trying. Growing.