Dirty Curve

by Meagan Brandy

Her mouth is agape, but quickly twists in anger. “Are you freaking kidding me right now?” she hisses in a whisper. I lift my hands. “Look, I get you’re hired through the university, but I can’t have a drug addict around me. Bad press and all that. I deal with enough bullshit from the school paper as it is.” “I assure you.” She holds my gaze strongly now. “I am not on drugs.” “Not even a little phentermine to get ya goin’?” I raise a dark brow. Her cheeks are kind of hollow ... Her lips pinch into a tight line and she fights a glare, putting on her professional cap when, visually speaking, she looks anything but. “Thanks for your interest in whether or not I eat highly addictive diet pills like candy, but if you’re done with your passive aggressive way of pointing out I’m not a size four, can we move along?” “Whoa.” I jolt forward in my chair. “That is not what I meant. I was only saying—” “I don’t care,” she cuts me off. “Can we get started or not?” Tapping my palm on the tabletop, I frown. I didn’t mean to offend the girl. It was a legit question that, okay, I probably could have worded differently, but I can tell from the small interaction we’ve had, she’s not interested in an apology.