Page 18 (1/2)

Her intelligence

Not her taste in decorating…

That last one uess no woman is perfect, and Becca and her obsession with pink, fluffy shit sure keeps her fro perfect

But does that reallyrun, would it matter if I had a black blanket or a pink one onas Becca is the one who's in that bed with me?

I slosh so

jabs froround What they think doesn’t ive me shit if they want, but no one will question my supremacy

But I don’t drink the newly-poured tumbler of whiskey I just swirl it around and around, as if staring into its aical information that I didn’t know before

Like

When Becca was escaping into the clubhouse, hiding fro to escape and be with me That’s what she wanted – to be with me

I could come with you…

She’d offered that day She’d begged me that day And I was too stubborn and bullheaded and stupid to say yes to her generous offer Why? Because that’s who I am? What a load of bullshit Well, Mr I-Always-Tell-The-Truth, here’s some truth:

I was scared I was scared of feeling so for her I was scared to fall in love

Except, I already had

I stand up froetting back to dry land, the world swi in front of my eyes Goddammit, I’m too drunk to drive myself to the Manhattan clubhouse

“Co him out of the crowd because he owns a truck He can drive