The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,69
fucking name? I decide in that moment not to beat myself up. I’m out of practice dealing with insane people. I realize that as I talk to her that there’s actually an invisible filter—the Crazy Filter I’ve decided to call it— that catches my words and twists them into something they don’t mean.
“Listen, JESSICA, you know you’re not supposed to be here. You know. . .” I stop when I realize that she’s at my goddamn home! Seeing her shocked the hell out of me so much that I didn’t stop to think that she’s at my door. “Wait. How did you get my address?”
She waves her hands so dismissively it’s almost funny—if it wasn’t actually scary. “Eh, you’d be amazed what you can find out on the internet these days. Don’t worry about that, I’m here now.”
“Yeah, and? Jess...ica, are you trying to go to jail? I don’t understand. You know there’s a restraining order. You’re playing with fire right now.”
She looks puzzled, her eyes shoot up to the sky with her head following at a forty-five-degree angle. She looks like an even more demented Harley Quinn—wacky hair and crazed expression to match. “But we wolves fear fire. I don’t understand.”
Okay, we’re through the fucking looking glass right now. I’m about to slam the door in her face and call the cops when I see my neighbors coming down the hall with their little kids. The last thing they need to see is this crazy lady who has a habit of. . .
“Wooo-woooo!”
That’s it. I grab her by the shoulders and pull her into my place to spare everyone the embarrassment of her insanity. Once she’s just inside my doorway I lean out and give a big fake smile to Mr. and Mrs. Keller and the little ones before diving back inside.
“Jessica, what in the holy fuck?”
“I just came so we can be together.”
I start to wonder what’s in her purse, and how far she’s willing to take this. Obviously, I’m dealing with someone who’s got a whole box of screws loose, but I don’t know anything else about her. I really start to wonder if she’s crazy, and if this whole scene I’m living through is going to be re-enacted by shitty actors in some yet to be filmed E True Hollywood story of how a famous YouTuber got murdered by his crazy stalker.
“Look, don’t take this question the wrong way. . .” Why am I caring about her feelings? “But you don’t have any weapons on you, right?”
“Weapons?” she laughs. “You think I’d hurt you?”
Nah, why would I think something silly like that? “I honestly don’t know, Jessica. You don’t seem to have any respect for boundaries—personal or legal, so I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
“Only of loving you, silly.”
Oh sweet Lord. Suddenly I wish I had my own line of Alpha taser guns so I could stun the crazy she-wolf until the men with the butterfly nets could come take her away.
What did I get myself into?
Shoshana
“I wish I’d walked into a home invasion instead.”
I’m not the ‘surprise, I’m here’ type of person. Once Tori tried that crap with me and I almost cut a bitch. She just showed up with coffee but didn’t tell me. So rude. Don’t get me wrong, I still took the coffee, but my point is I don’t like surprising people in their homes.
But Conor’s going to love it because I stopped by this amazing bakery that he told me about a few blocks from his place and picked up a small box of his favorite pastries. The man would kill for a good Napoleon, so I got 5 of them and I know he’s going to smile when I hand him the box.
I don’t know when I became like. . . a girlfriend or whatever, but I’m feeling kind of sappy recently. The last few weeks have been amazing with Conor (did I just day that?), and now I have all these total ‘girlfriendy’ moments like the one I’m having now—where I spend half my lunch with Tori thinking about something I can surprise Conor with to make him smile.
We’re supposed to Netflix and chill later—so, basically, we’re supposed to watch 15 minutes of a movie before having sex on his couch. But he texted me that he had some exciting news and wanted to celebrate, so I got him a celebratory box of sugary pastries.
I get to his place faster than I thought—I hope he’s home.