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.”


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