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stepping onto the porch, breathing in the fresh air while listening to the birds singing me a song. They might even get together with the neighborhood mice and make me a dress later, who knows.
“Sara Johnson.” The name rolls off Ben’s tongue like it’s some kind of a proclamation. “Yeah?” Winston says, his voice is suddenly soft. “I’m calling it in.” “You’re what?” “You heard me.” “What’s going on?” I hear Nick ask. “He called in Sara Johnson,” Winston states, his voice edged with anger. “No shit?” A deep voice sounds that I think belongs to Jesse. “Yep,” Nick answers. “You fucking suck,” Winston curses. I feel Ben shrug his shoulders. “Didn’t see that one coming,” Jesse mutters.
“C’mon,” he says, taking Jesse’s arm, helping him rise from the door frame he’s slumped against. “But I want to see her eat tacos,” Jesse protests as Ben leads him back to the couch.
“I’m like a guy who watches too much porn and can’t get it up for a real woman. No real man can compare to my BBFs.” She swallows. “I’m destined to grow old alone, surrounded by my hoard of books and cats.”
Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost was a lying sack of shit.
He grips his chest, his nostrils flare. “My heart fucking stopped when you called tonight. Fucking stopped.” He takes an angry step toward me. “So why don’t you tell me how I fucking feel. Tell me what this shit means.”