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Pink and Frilly, Like Her
Why isn't it called V? Or E?-”
He groaned. “I'm never giving you wine again.”
I glowered. “You're so mean to me.”
“You're irritating.”
I sulked in my chair, words slurring: “You're horrible, rude, and a pig. You steal my frappacinos and sandwiches, you ruined my dating life. I wish you went poof,” I threatened. “Poof. And then disappeared.”
“No you don't,” he said quietly.
“Yes I do.” I sloshed my wine in his direction. “You just can't handle the truth. You hide behind snark and your scythe.”
“I do not.”
It seemed imperative he agreed with me. “Yes you do! Yes you do yes you do yes you do-”
He pressed his palm over my mouth, then snatched my wine glass away. “You've had too much excitement for one night.”
I yawned, voice muffled by his hand. “Where's the crab dip...?” My eyelids fluttered. I snuggled
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