“I’m serious,” he said, raising his thin eyebrows.

“I know,” I replied, and sniffed my short hair.

God, I hated talking about Jack. I hated talking about that whole damn family but it just seemed to come up like vomit.

“Do you use the ‘l’ word?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him look down.

I chuckled sadly, “Do you use the ‘z’ word?”

“Zipper?” he mocked with fake awe.

“Shh,” I teased, “Don’t say that so loud.. The ‘l’ word?”

He drew cirlces on the center of the flower.

“Oh,” it hit me, “Love?”

He drew a smiley on my thin hand.

“No.”

“I knew it!” he said, looking very much like a five year old on christmas morning.

“Do you?” I asked, skeptic and wanting something against him.

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?” I tried to keep the dissapointment out of my voice.