Mimik

GAY SHIT

Ring Ring

Mimik(Future Husband)

"Hey. What's up?" Definitely shouldn't have picked up the phone.

"Hey. Nothing really I just thought I'd call to make plans with you. We haven't heard each other's voices in a while." Mimik. AKA Ryan Zimmerman. The skater boy of our small and dwindling grade 11 class. Everyone just keeps dropping out. The teenage heartthrob and badass. Calling ME of ALL people to make plans. This cannot be real. Someone's fucking with me.

"Yeah. Um, sure. Yeah." And me, Spade. AKA Sasha Bright. The lonely, openly gay ass nerd who gets bullied by the bad ass' friends everyday. Lonely by choice, friendless by default. Awkward as fuck and terrible at getting words out of my mouth. Somehow amazing at getting words onto a piece of paper or written on a laptop.

"Yeah. Um, I'm free tomorrow if you wanna hang out. I'll send you my address on ChatRuums."

He's so good with words. I hope he actually likes me and this isn't a joke. I'd hate that a little too much.

"Sure seems like a plan. I'll, um, text you before I come. Um, sorry I'm so awkward I'm better with words when I'm typing. It's just...I...I can't really, um...WORDS ARE HARD!" I finally get out. Not realizing that I've been rambling for an awkwardly long amount of time. It's what happens when I talk to someone I like; I can't talk properly. I pause for a second throwing my phone on my bed.

"Did you just drop me? I feel attacked. Pick up your phone please and keep talking to me. You're rambling is really cute." He sounds muffled as I plop onto my bed and pick up my phone again.

"I'm sorry. I just...you say words now please."

"Tomorrow. I expect to see you at my house. We're gonna go to the movies. A movie of my choosing of course." I take a breath to process what he said.

"Okay. I'll see you at 7 then?"

"Cool. Bye."

"Bye."