Faking Under the Mistletoe

by Ashley Shepherd

“I can’t feel my toes. Jellybeans are disgusting. I don’t understand statistics. And I’m gonna sing you a song!”

Who doesn’t love a broody man in a suit?

I’m that girl.

wildest dreams—and

Men suck. We should send them to another planet.

I’m smiling and he’s smiling and we’re smiling in his kitchen.

He smiles into me and I might explode.

“Get your hands off of her.” Asher’s voice fills the room.

slay

Sometimes I cry because I’m upset that I’m crying over him.

“How do you know?” “Because I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he looks at you.”

She’s so hot. I want to date her.

“Olivia?” Asher’s voice is muffled by his pillows and sheets. “Yeah?” “I think I’m in love with you.”

I’m not a person. I’m a hormonal reaction.

“Do I look okay?” “You look beautiful.”

I’m hurt and confused and definitely in love.

It’s the Nawaar Qadir photo I saw at the gallery. Midnight in Roma.

OMG

Wake me up in 2020.

DONT

I’m the human embodiment of someone hitting play on every single Taylor Swift song at once.

time is precious and Asher is cute.

looking like the whole goddamn Naughty List.

Time is a construct. Orgasms are not.

I’m stupidly in love. It’s disgusting.