Page 55 of Things I Overshared

It’s unusual for me

Apologizing?

I’m shocked.

Behaving in an apology-worthy way so often.

Let me guess

I push all your buttons

I drive you insane

You can’t stand me, unlike any other

You’re not the first, King of the North

[Meme Winter Is Coming]

[Meme You Know Nothing, John Snow]

Miss Canton, that’s not what I meant earlier.

I don’t think of you that way.

What way?

You were right

About the flirting.

It’s fine, forget it.

It is absolutely not fine.

Please let me explain.

I notice that my heart is pounding, and as exciting as texting with him is—why? Why am I so excited?—I’m emotionally exhausted too. I can’t bear the thought of talking it out with him. There’s no way it will be quick or painless, and we do have an early morning tomorrow. I can’t find the energy to continue this fight-not-fight. So, I let him off the hook.

Me: No, you’re forgiven.

It was the beer.

It’s fine. We’re friends.

I’m going to sleep.

Chapter 16

I stall the next morning to the point of making us show up at exactly on time, which, in our world, is late. Paper people are punctual people, I guess. All those planners. And planner stickers.Man, I love me some planner stickers.

As I took my precious time and hid in my room, Emerson seemed to camp out in the common area waiting for me. I didn’t even get to sneak out for coffee and a bite of breakfast. Instead, I ran from my room directly to the coffee yelling “I know, I know” and grabbing a banana. My plan worked, as there was no time for chatting.

I was supremely nervous. Not about the meeting. About the fact that last night, in a tipsy rage of embarrassment, I managed to mention, to Emerson himself, that I find him brooding hot, that he makes me nervous, that I think he’s intimidating, and gorgeous, and I like when he stares. I like when he stares? Lord help me. Facepalm of facepalms.

Oh, and I take the elevator ride down to turn purple as I remember what Frozone offered to me in response: I drive him insane and cause him to act like a jerk.Actually, Lord, you could just take out this elevator right now. Just smash it down to the basement. That’d be fine. Yes, and Amen.

Emerson is his usual self, in his coffee-ice-cream attire, good enough to bite and as cool as ever. The only difference I notice is that he keeps looking my way, as if he wants us to have a conversation we have absolutely no time for.