Me Happy. You Happy.

He’s fucking with me.

No. He’s really on his way to my house.

I have to call John.

I have to clean my room.

Thank God I didn’t eat today. He’s going to see me naked. I should go for a run, anyway.

He’s fucking with me.

Is someone at the door?

Fuck, I’m not ready yet.

Breathe.

He’s here.

I can’t breathe.

Jesus, he’s more gorgeous than I remember.

My hair’s wet and my skin’s splotchy.

He’s about to kiss me.

He’s so tall. Stand on your tiptoes.

I guess I should cancel my plans tonight.

Why’s he here, again?

This isn’t just about us. He’s going through a break-up.

Be nice. Have sex. But don’t give him everything.

I’m starving, but I’m so skinny today.

I should take him to Agave. I’ll order tortilla soup.

There’s a lot more people here than I expected.

Why doesn’t he want shredded cheese or pico de gallo with his fajitas? Those are the best fixins! That’s not a red flag. Cool your jets, fighter pilot.

He thinks I’m funny.

I’m killing.

Control your smile twitch.

There’s something he wants to tell me.

He wants me to think he's damaged. Don’t we all, baby?

I just want to go back to my bed with him.

I don’t want him to take his hands off me.

He’s making me cuddle with him. He’s a cuddler. I’m not a cuddler. But I don’t mind this.

My back fits perfectly with his front.

It’s morning. It's Saturday. He’s still here.

I should tell him I have a work thing in a few hours. I don’t want him to go, but I don’t want him to know that I don’t want him to go.

Shit. He’s awake.

His kisses last forever. But I don’t mind that.

I want to stay in this bed with him all day.

He’s just using me.

He wants to fuck me. He wants space between him and his ex. He wants me to write about him.

Fuck him.

I’m going to fuck him.

If I feel empty after this, I going to fake an asthma attack and he’ll have to leave.

I’m in trouble.

He can see through me. That’s fine, because I can see the real him, too. He’s sparkly on the inside.

He likes poached eggs. That’s disgusting.

I haven’t texted Wesley or Heath since Thursday. I haven’t even checked Grindr once.

He’s going to break my heart.

I fit perfectly in his lap.

He’s taking a nap. I should kiss him.

I want to remember everything about his face. Even the little brown dot under his left eye.

I guess he’s staying another night.

We should go to Tsunami for dinner.

An hour and a half wait? Fuck this; we’re going to Capital Grille.

He talks more than he eats. He’s so corporate. To him, I’m a broke, brooding writer. I’m a breath of fresh air. He thinks I'm different, and he can't take his eyes off me.

My stomach hurts. I think I’m going to throw up. We need to go home.

He isn’t touching my leg like he did on the drive to the restaurant.

He’s in the shower. I should put on gym shorts. No underwear.

His body feels electric against mine.

This is what falling in love feels like.

I should ask him to say it.

Just whisper, “say it.” He’ll say it.

NO.

His arms are so tight around me. I don’t mind that.

This can’t be real. And if it’s real, it’s not fair.

It’s Sunday. He’s awake. He’ll have to leave soon.

Stay.

He wants to stay.

He can’t stay.

This was my bottle episode. And it was better than the Patrick Wilson episode of Girls.

He’ll get back with the ex. They’ll call me “The Mistake” when they fight about me.

I hope he knows I only let three other guys in my life do what he did to me during sex.

He’s been unhappy for such a long time.

He could be happy with me.

We could make each other happy.

Me happy. You happy.

I won’t watch him drive away.

He doesn’t want to let me go, either.

My heart is ripping in half.

Smile. Slap him on the ass. Tell him you’ll “see him around, bruh.”

He gave me his t-shirt. I’ll keep it until we have a big fight. Then I’ll unceremoniously throw it in the trash can and fuck someone.

He’s gotten into my bloodstream. I miss him already. Don’t watch him drive away.

I’m going to be alright.

That was nice.

I still have a few hours of Sunday left.

There’s fajita chicken in a box in the fridge.

Where did the weekend go?

I wish we had shredded cheese or pico de gallo.

I should write about this before I forget the details.

Maybe I’ll just post a chronological list of my thoughts.

That’s stupid.

No one would be able to follow that.