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I feel like such a failure. No, I feel like a quitter. The last piece of advice my mom gave me before she died was to never give up on love.
Two beautiful, bisexual women who are not only into me, but each other. Hey, heaven? Dean Di Laurentis here. Thanks for letting me visit.
Me and Garrett can handle our own in a fight, but if you want some bone-crushing, we can unleash Logan on him.”
“Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.” A laugh flies out. “Dream on.”
Enduring this film is the equivalent of watching paint dry.
The memories come crashing back in vivid Technicolor. The terrible movie. The tequila shots. The…rest. I slept with Dean last night. Twice.
My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them.
The guy has the attention span of a fruit fly, and the affection-giving habits of a puppy, offering his sexual devotion to whoever happens to be holding the treat. By which I mean the vagina.
Come on, Little Dean, help me out, I plead silently. We’re talking fourgy here.
“Fuck, I hear ya. Deluca is shitting bricks too,”
My song choice? Pink’s “U and UR Hand.”
“Bring Winston.”
“The only one of Logan’s crazy acronyms I live my life by—STAG.” His mouth stretches in a broad smile. “Stand there and grind.”
“Can you…” I speak through the tight lump in my throat. “Can you call Dean and ask him to come over?” I don’t check her face to gauge her reaction. I don’t need to, because I hear the bewilderment loud and clear in her voice. “Dean?” She pauses. “Dean Di Laurentis?” “Yes.” I curl up again, tucking my head against the pillow. “You want me to call Dean.” “Yes.” “Dean Di Laurentis?” “Yes.” I lick my dry lips, which are salty from my tears. Tears that won’t fucking stop falling. “Please…just call him. I…” I feel my entire face collapsing again. “I need him.”
The girl I’m dating. Jesus. Never thought I’d be saying that. But it’s the way it is, and I’ve decided to roll with it.
You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me—” “You love me?” I blurt out.
Life hack: if you don’t want someone asking you questions, say the word tampon and the conversation ends.
