The Writer Acquires Human Company at Last
I hoped the earth would crack open and swallow me up. I’ve probably just insulted him beyond comprehension.
“It’s okay,” Raine assured me, “I get that a lot.”
“It feels nice that I’ve been added to the list,” I grumbled, and buried my face into Scooter’s fur.
“You still haven’t introduced yourself,” he reminded me, and I blinked.
It was true, I hadn’t.
“Aidan O’Callahan,” I said, closing my journal, away from his prying eyes.
“You’re Irish,” Raine told me, looking triumphant.
“Close—half Irish,” I replied, and secured the band around my journal.
“And, isn’t that a boy’s name?” he said, a twinkle in his sapphire eyes.
I remembered how I had bluntly stated that he was named like a girl, and I shrugged.
“It can be used both ways,” I told him, now slipping the journal onto my lap. “Why were you looking at my family pictures?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered, with blasé expression.
“When I can’t sleep, I don’t go snooping in peoples’ houses.”
“I’m not you.”