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oBITCHuary: uyedin’éniye
oBITCHuary: It’s Russian. It is the state of being alone without being lonely. Yours?
McMonster: Well, now I can’t tell you mine because it’s not half as good as yours.
oBITCHuary: There are no right or wrong answers.
McMonster: Titties.
oBITCHuary: Okay. I take it back. That is the wrong answer.
McMonster: I like the sound, I like the organ, I like the meaning. The prospects. Everything. It’s a great word.
oBITCHuary: This is bad.
McMonster: Hey. You asked.
oBITCHuary: Not the word. THIS. You and me.
McMonster: Why?
oBITCHuary: Because we’re utterly inevitable.
CAL
“Baby Can I Hold You”—Tracy Chapman
After my forehead got stitched and bandaged, Row insisted on walking me home. An ordinarily chivalrous offer, unless you took into account the fact that I had an actual ride home in the form of Kieran Carmichael and his comfy Maybach. Apparently, Zeta had told Dylan about my injury. Dylan had called Kieran and demanded he save the day.
“I’ll walk you,” Row declared when I grabbed my backpack and coat from the break room. “You’re not getting into that moron’s car.”
“Pretty sure I am.” I collected my hair into a high ponytail. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, my head injury, and his constant bull crap. I also didn’t know what to make of Row’s behavior toward me. One second he told me I looked perfect while bleeding, the next he seemed annoyed by my existence.
Row removed his chef jacket, revealing a tight-fitting, olive-green Henley. “It’s not safe.”
“How is bumming a ride with Kieran unsafe?”
“He looks like a substance abuser.” Row slipped on his flight jacket.
Laughter spluttered from my mouth. “No, he doesn’t. As a professional soccer player, he gets tested for drugs all the time.”
“Those panels don’t check for mushrooms.”
“You’re reaching.”
“Yeah, the end of my fucking patience. You don’t like being with men in a private setting, remember?”
“Yes,” I huffed, not liking that he brought up things I’d told him as oBITCHuary. “I also remember trying to get over myself. Having Kieran take me home is a great step forward.”
“Grab your umbrella, Dot. We’re outta here.” He ignored me.
He was dropping everything mid-service to walk me home, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. As if reading my mind, Row jammed his beanie over his head angrily. “It’s the second time you’ve been injured on my property. Just making sure you’re up and standing. Don’t get any ideas.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked happy again.”
“Is it a crime?” I suppressed a laugh. He was ridiculous.
