𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [slow updates]

𝟏𝟗

CINDY

The day is here.

Oh, God, it's here.

I invited Levin to get ready at my house since my place is closer to the event than his is. We can hang out a little bit before things get crazy.

Surprisingly, the anxiety I've been carrying around like a fifty pound weight has miraculously disappeared. Which can only mean one of two things. One: I'm high. Two: I'm really high.

No, I'm kidding.

But something must be wrong with me if I'm not crawling out of my skin right now.

Levin says he's only about five minutes away, and that's what's making me jittery. Not the fact that, like, more than a hundred people are going to be taking my picture all at once in the matter of two hours.

Something is very wrong.

While I'm waiting for that man to get here, I finish off an episode of The Powerpuff Girls—my not-so-new addiction. It keeps me distracted long enough for the apparently very slow driver to get here and knock at my front door.

With my big blanket still wrapped around me, I waddle to the door.

I'm still in my pajamas, look like I just woke up, and probably have Cheeto dust on my face and clothes.

Christ. How am I going to raise a kid when I'm still acting like one myself?

I open the door, revealing my soon-to-be official fake lover. Ew.

He's got his suit—I'm hoping is what is in there—in one of those bags rich people carry their dry cleaning in. The ones I've only seen in movies and shows.

Before I can greet him, a big smile spreads across his face. He reaches toward my face, sticking a finger through one of my rollers.

I swat at his hand. "Don't touch them. This took a whole hour to perfect."

I fell asleep in them, and when I woke up, I forgot they were in my hair. So, when I finally realized, I thought it would be better to leave them in a little longer considering how late I fell asleep.

"Sorry for almost ruining your perfection."

"You're good." I assure him with a slight smile.

He walks into the house, shutting the door behind him as I look for something I can give him to drink.

"Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea, coffee?"

"Water's good. Thanks."

"Ice or no ice?"

If he says no ice then it's over. I can't fake date someone who doesn't prefer to drink cold water.

"Ice, please. Lots of ice."

I hum almost thoughtfully, almost relieved. Looks like this relationship will work out. Friendship-wise, of course. Can't be friends with someone who—

"What's with that?"

"With what?"

"W-with that hmm. It sounded judgy."

"Judgy? No. I was just thinking about whether or not this could work out if you hate ice water."

His lips curl. "Would it?"

I pretend to think about it for a moment, already aware of the fact that he would not be sitting in my house if he didn't like ice water.

"Mmmm... No. Probably not."