Crushing

by Genevieve Novak

‘Well that’s easy,’ said Claud, shrugging. ‘Casual sexy. Jeans, flats and a slinky top. Hair down, unfussy jewellery, minimal makeup, and do your perfume right when you leave the house.’ I threw my arms around her and squeezed, even as she whined in protest. ‘What would I do without you?’

i dont wabt to be rude but this is sone of the worst dialogue ive ever read

‘At last we meet,’ I said, leaning against the arm of the couch and rallying against my needlessly catty train of thought. ‘The infamous Jesse.’ Claud beamed. ‘The one and only.’ ‘What’ll it be? Juggling, baton twirling — ooh, maybe Irish dancing?’ He blinked. ‘Huh?’ ‘Your special talent to impress the judges. Me. I’m the judges. Some girls have their dad sitting in a recliner polishing his shotgun when the new boyfriend comes over. Claud has me.’

this is genuinely the worst stream of dialogue ive ever read