Sunday, hangovers, full English, and a whiteboard. Cruel? Maybe. Accurate? Deadly. One of them is already texting and I haven’t decided if that’s peak or useful.
Tag: texting
Spent the night telling me I was different. Ate me out like he meant it. By Sunday the blue ticks were gone. I still replay the bit where he said stay.
Look, I only noticed at noon. Nice watch too. Sophie clocked it before I did and now the whole flat wants a name, a rating, and whether he’s coming back for it.