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Thankfully, at that certain time, I wasn't drinking anything---because if I had, it would've gone all over Ginger.
I just had the worst luck with the Newsies cast, didn't I? First, I spilled a lattè over Ben Cook, and then I shooed Sky Flaherty away from me. After he offered help! I was such a jerk.
"I didn't know!" I said defensively. I pulled my cold hands back and raised them in the air, proving I was innocent. "Gosh-dangit!" I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands.
"I didn't think you knew---but with your previous boost in confidence, I wouldn't be surprised if you slapped a newsie across the face!" She folded her arms with a disappointed huff and leaned backward.
"Ginger!" I gasped, offended by her comment.
She shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, but you scared him away."
"You know I didn't mean to. And I don't believe asking who you were staring at could frighten him."
"No," Ginger began thoughtfully; "but it could introduce distasteful or unwelcome thoughts. He probably thought you were extremely rude."
"Oh, come on, Ginger. This isn't Pride and Prejudice! We were equally as rude and annoying, if at all, to a stranger."
"But he's not a stranger!" she protested helplessly. "He's Sky Flaherty!"
"Well, I didn't know that!"
"Ugh!" she nearly screamed. "For this blunder, you have to do the juice cleanse with me---for a week." She emphasized the last word as if it was a deadly curse. And, to me, it was.
I groaned but knew that she'd eventually force me to do it. Even if she guilt-tripped me---which would undoubtedly be the case. But I felt horrible. For everything. Though not everything was entirely my fault.
"Can we just go home?" I whined.
With an approving nod, Ginger and I rose from the wooden table and began a leisurely walk down the paved sidewalk. My hands were stuffed deep into my sweatpants pockets, while my glistening head was held in defeat---though I pretended I was admiring my shoes and deeply intrigued by our conversation. And though we did talk steadily until we reached our apartment flat, my thoughts were diverted to the humiliating scene from earlier.
How could I have been so disgustingly rude? No, I didn't spit in his eye or completely ignore him, but my comments were snarky and uncalled for. Then again, he kept pressing the subject during the worst possible time. Which wasn't technically his fault, because he didn't understand the situation. But did he have to, right then, when I was looking and acting the worst, have to interact with me?
Was I overthinking things again? Maybe there was fault on both sides. Or maybe just mine... But how could I know? I didn't want to offend him, obviously. Ugh. I seriously had the worst luck.
