The Co-op

by Tarah DeWitt

deep-fried artichoke hearts.

Ok ew

“The ghost of my virginity currently haunting the property we inherited together?” I force a laugh.

Wut

To me, it’s as if he’s just said I remember how your feet left marks on the interior roof of my ’72 Bronco due to the frequency with which I had them spread and planted there.

His lip has curled and his eyes are appalled. “A ‘cocky turd’?” “‘Obnoxious slut’ felt too affectionate. Some of my favorite people are obnoxious sluts.”

The banter is funny but there is zero chemisty

I hung up and screamed into a pillow. It did nothing to muffle me since it’s half an inch thick.

The phone call prior to that, he told me I could “always start collecting husbands” like my mom as an alternative to a career path.

“Can I kiss you?” comes out of me in a gruff whisper. “Yes.” Hers is just as husky.

LAMEEEE the chemistry feels so forced and awkward

“Fuck,” I pant. “Velveeta.” “LaRynn,” she says. “My name is LaRynn.”

I don’t want her to do that, either. I’m not so sure I feel amazing about being her sample spoon, but … but I don’t want her to do that at all.

This is funny or gross?

“I mean,” Jensen laughs, “peeing on her would’ve been more subtle, man.”

It’s like peeking into the mind of a serial killer.

So, even though my gut reaction is to stay suspicious, to err on the side of judgment, to remind myself that someone can always be more duplicitous than they seem, I look at LaRynn now, and maybe it’s those same tired eyes that make me wonder if this is her fresh start.

Ok but i dont care about their childhood trauma dumps theyre far too long and dont add anything

It’s a $95 fucking PILLOW. IT IS A SINGLE PILLOW.

??

Of course. Of course she shuts down. I’m not worth sharing anything real with. She can barely stand to communicate with me, apparently. It feels like I failed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

Idk if i like her