Let’s get this party started up once again:
You know, unless I fuck up and burn my arm while not paying attention, like I did the week after that dinner.
Mark spread some cooling gel stuff on my shoulder with one eyebrow up. “You’re lucky this isn’t worse. It should heal fine.”
Fucking Cristian, creeping into my thoughts. Just who did he think he was, my boy…friend?
“Patch, you alright? How bad does it hurt now?”
Holy shit, I had a boyfriend. An actual man actually was in a relationship with me. Actually. Like really. And we haven’t fucked. Not even once. And he was still with me.
“Cristian’s my boyfriend,” I sputtered and noticed my heart raced even faster.
“Oookay. If we’re playing non-sequitors, then Shaka, when the walls fell.”
“Very funny. I’m serious.”