Status Updates From The Stopover (The Miles Hig...

“You should stop it immediately.”

“Why is that?” He smiles.

“I think I may be addicted.”

He chuckles and rolls onto his back and pulls me over him. “No, I want you addicted.”

I laugh. “Why would you want me addicted?”

“Because I am, and I don’t want to be in this alone.”

He rolls his eyes. “Are we going to fight now about why we fought?”

I smile. He’s right; this is ridiculous. “No. No more fighting.”

“I don’t know how to be that guy all the time, Em. It’s a very small part of my personality.”

“Then just save that small part for me,” I breathe.

He needs to step up or step away.

“You know what? You’re perfect for this fake news job. This drama thing is right up your alley.”

“You actually give strangers access to your food?”

“They’re delivery drivers. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They see a meal for one. Put some Rohypnol into your food, wait for half an hour until they know you’ve eaten it and are unconscious, and then come back, break in, and take advantage of your body.” He dusts his hands in front of him. “Boom, easiest crime in history.”

It’s the weirdest thing; it’s as if along with this job, I was gifted three friends and unlimited options. Every night is Saturday night in New York.

“I’m washing my hair.”

“Why would you want to wash it when you could be getting it dirty?”

pls just put me out of my misery already