Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 60.: Thinking logically

It's absolutely the worst that I have to wait for her to come over before I can leave. What a good night was supposed to wipe away, stayed with me more than ever. The moment my self-destructive insight whispered into my ear about Annabelle sleeping with Dominico, the suspense I had to endure yesterday returned and chained me back to everything I felt a day ago.

I can survive her going on a date. It may not look like it, but in the end, she does want different things than me, and if she respects my wishes, I will respect hers. Though, I kind of wish that wasn't the case; we had fun both of us being independent, doing what we enjoyed and what suited us best. But, you know, I can survive this being her decision.

What I find completely blasphemous is that she may have gone on this date just so she could sleep with him! I'm being kind of hypocritical... but still! If sex with me was that bad, she could've said something lowkey. I would get her hint, I'm not stupid. I wouldn't really believe her, but you know, I would make sure she will enjoy it next time.

I swear if they fuck I will find him and feed him his balls.

Given yesterday's conversation that was also kind of an argument I can't ask her if they slept together. She was pissed at me when I simply implied her doing it. I can easily imagine her going all savage on me for comparing her to a whore or however she may understand it.

Although...

Of course, that's one possible reaction, but! she could also do something worse. She could smile, she could blush, she could get all shy and jolly, which would be an answer what they've done on its own.

I'd rather have her scratch my face than have her gaze up into the ceiling dreamily.

Waiting to see which of the alternatives I will witness today is unsettling. Just when I try to weigh which one carries more credibility, I come up with five others. Without her telling me everything honestly and in good faith, I don't see how I will know anything for sure.

In a way, I can't for her to find some guy, marry him and go away. In all the years I've been alone I never had such a problematic time of living. I didn't have problems and life was good. Then I look at the hungry bundle of chubbiness in front of me opening his mouth at the sight of a spoon full of milk rice pudding.

Ugh... So much has changed since all I had was my own will and no obligations, except for my job. It's pretty hard to believe it if I try to rationally think about all of it. It's like a bad trip.

I offer Devon a spoon, and he locks his distinguished baby lips around it. Whenever he does it and tastes the food, he closes his eyes and smiles immediately after, so bits of rice go all over me. The skin of my hands, face and neck is irritated from all the wiping and I probably look like a guy with some heavy-duty STD.

Every time someone walks down the hallway, Devon stretches his neck over to see if the doors will open and Annabelle will be the one to walk in.

"Really? Am I that terrible?" I grumble, beginning to heavily doubt myself. This adoption matter clearly wasn't such a good idea.

Devon's eyes focus on me and peer at me for a few moments. If he could speak, he'd definitely tell me that I'm a complete idiot, or at least that's what his facial expression is describing me. Then he throws both of his hands in the air and furrows his brows. I surrender myself to the tragedy of him starting to cry, but then he mumbles something in his baby vowels that, by the tone of it, sounds very much like what I just asked him.

I gape at him surprised. Not surprised, but more like impressed. I don't even know I part my lips at awe until Devon does it as well.

"Are you mirroring me?" I chuckle proudly of him.