I watched him drift off to sleep on my weathered couch. He was my Brandy Alexander, and we both knew it. So why was I sitting here with him?
Ever since we’d met at the museum, I’d been addicted to the worst parts of him. The lazy part, the stubborn part, the jobless part…But, I loved him still.

“How long have I been out?” he asked me sleepily.
“An hour or so. Not that long, really.” I added.
“Wow, killer. Are you making dinner?”
“I could; do you want me to?”
“No,” he smiled groggily. “I want you to want to.” He rose to hug my shoulders.
Why did he always make it so hard for me to do what was inevitable?
Sighing, I turned to face him. “I’m so sorry. I’d like to be the girl for you—”
“Why is that a problem?” He interrupeted.
“Because I’m not. I can’t cross sea and land for you, anymore.”
“But, you bring out the best in me!” he pleaded.
“The best? Mmm, your best isn’t good enough.”