Nightingale || j.b ||

Dr. Graham fixed her glasses, and stared at us, “Do you know why we chose you to be a pair of our little project.” She pointed between the two of us. When none of us answered, she continued her little explanation. So this was planned out? Great. “We actually got a call from both your managers–”

“Wow, wow, wait. You’re saying our managers did this?” Justin interrupted, “Why?”

“Don’t interrupt, you fuck, it’s rude.” I scolded.

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same.” He retorted.

I glared at him, about to respond when Dr. Graham beat me to it, “This is why. They are a little worried about the both of you. Especially since you guys have history together.”

At that I made gag noises. She made it sound like we were an old couple who broke up because we didn’t agree with each other. But that was so far from what actually happened, I couldn’t even see it. Me? Ever being that’s girlfriend?

Hell to the bloody no. I would rather stab myself.
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