My December Darling

by Lauren Asher

In some ways, I even feel bad for my mom, knowing she holds herself to this high standard that sucks the joy out of life. I don’t remember her always being this bad but growing up means gaining perspective on our parents and the fact that they’re people too. People who can drive us crazy, but also people who can make mistakes and have flaws just like the rest of us.

Well, shit. I shouldn’t be turned on by the scary look on her face, but the devious smirk does something for me. It’s called a dopamine rush, and you of all people know those can become addictive.

I’ve avoided the task, both because of work and since I’m not sure what I want to do. Finding a roommate is going to be a pain in the ass, but living alone reminds me too much of my lonely childhood, so I’m struggling with analysis paralysis about the whole thing.

“I like knowing you’re obsessed with me.” I shove his shoulder with a laugh. “I’m not obsessed.” “That’s not how I interpreted it.” “It’s not my fault you lack the ability to analyze context clues.” “Except all my clues lead to one theory.” “What?” “That you’re falling in love with me.” My cheeks flame. “Shut up.” “It’s okay if you are. It’ll be our little secret.”