Page 15 of The Fake Divination Offense
This is as much as I wanted to talk about it with him at all. I told him what I’m going to do, that I’m making this big life adjustment; it was a healthy, normal exchange.
I didn’t call him in the middle of the night having a meltdown about it.
I didn’t spend hours texting him all the reasons I should or shouldn’t do it.
I kept this admittedly monumental decision to myself, and presented it to him in a perfectly mature, responsible way.
This is what it’s like to have ahealthyfriendship. I can maintain boundaries.
I expected to feel relieved that I hit this goalpost my therapist and I have talked about. But I only feel… ashamed? Empty.
Unsatisfied.
Although, maybe that has more to do with being violently hungover while having this discussion, so the wholematureaspect is kind of nullified.
Speaking of.
I glance down at my bare chest. “Um. Why did I wake up naked?”
Thio sputters a cough that’s definitely a poorly restrained laugh and whips around to face the kitchen, but not before I see his face turnflamingred.
Seb unleashes an evil smirk. “Oh, babe. Do you really wanna know?”
“I… feel like I need to?”
“Well.” Seb takes a running leap at the kitchen island so he can sit on it, kicking his legs as Thio white-knuckles the edge of the counter. “I told you. You said you wanted to betotally freelast night.”
My eyes widen and my empty stomach contracts. “Oh my gods. I didn’t.”
“Don’t worry, we got you home before you stripped down. That was just for us, apparently.” Seb scrunches his nose and nudges Thio with his socked foot. “Baby?”
Thio shakes his head, shoulders heaving like he’s holding back laughter.
“No,” he says, voice reedy.
“He askedyoufor it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I asked Thio forwhat?” I choke out.
Thio goes slack with a heavy sigh and takes a second to gather himself.
He turns from the island, pulls out his wallet, thumbs free a few singles, and throws them at me.
They flutter off my stomach and I lift an eyebrow at him.
“While Sebastian was getting you some water,” he starts, face still red, voice still pitchy, “you stood on your bed, told your sound system to play, and I quote,that sexy thub-thub hubba-hubba music, and asked me to, and again, this is a direct quote,throw some singles all up in this bitch, please.”
My face goes slack. “Please?”
“It was the politest drunk striptease I’ve ever received.”
Thio’s trying hard not to laugh. He’s maintaining eye contact, lips in a flat line, nodding sagely like this is a totally normal conversation to be having.
“Orok,” I start self-mockingly, “do you remember the exact moment you gave up alcohol?Why, yes. Yes, I do. It was when I—oh myfuckinggods.” A memory surfaces. Pretty rude of it, honestly. “Did I helicopter my dick at you?”
“You still had your boxers on at that point, but yes. I wasn’t sure what you were doing until you made propeller sound effects.”
