Things Liars Say (#ThreeLittleLies #1)(11)

Cal: I am pretty scary.

Grey: You don’t scare ME.

Cal: That’s because you have a touch of the crazy inside you, too.

Grey: LOL I DO NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Grey: HE’S LOOKING AT ME AGAIN. And he is not happy.

Cal: Are you wearing a skirt? Maybe he’s just trying to see your underwear? In which case, this fake boyfriend WILL come beat his ass.

Grey: Okay, now I’m less concerned with my “touch of the crazy” than with your emerging violent streak and wanting to beat people’s asses.

Cal: Oh, come on. I haven’t actually punched anyone in… hours (wink). Fine. It was at last Friday’s rugby match, and he deserved it.

Grey: Oh lord, Cal…

Grey: BTW, no, I’m not wearing a skirt. I’m wearing a dress.

Cal: Well, shit.

Grey: Is that all you have to say???

Cal: No, that’s not all I have to say. What else are you wearing?

Grey: Oh, heck no, buddy ^^^ I’m not falling for one of those creepy “What are you wearing” sexting messages that lead to no good.

Cal: Shhhhhhh. Shush. Just tell me what your dress looks like so I can close my eyes for a second and visualize you sitting in a lecture hall. In a little sundress like the one you were wearing at your house?

Grey: Did you seriously SHUSH me via text???

Cal: Lol. Shush, woman! I’m not done with my visuals yet.

Grey: Wait. You noticed what I was wearing at my house?

Cal: Of course I noticed. You’re somewhat good-looking.

Grey: Cal!!! You brat.

Cal: Just stop arguing and send me a selfie.

Cal: Please.

Grey: Sigh. Fine, here. Since you asked nice.

Cal: Shit, wow. I forgot how cute you are.

Grey: Cute? Ugh, the kiss of death. Cute is for kittens and grandmas.

Cal: Well I can’t very well say you look smoke-f*cking-hot, can I? That would be weird.

Cal: See? That was weird.





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Crappy night

Calvin,

Can I vent to you about my crappy night last night? I don’t want to dump on you, but… Sometimes it’s hard to talk to my friends about certain things. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one with problems—well, not really “problems,” but I don’t think I’m handling the stress of all this responsibility well. Sometimes I wish I… had someone to share it with, you know? Anyway. A group of us went out last night (Wasted Wednesday and all that) to this bar, Major Dingby’s. And even though I have a “boyfriend”—go ahead, make fun—all anyone did was try and set me up with people!!!! Pretty sure they’re not convinced you’re real? Why would they try to SET ME UP when they know—I mean THINK—I have a boyfriend??? It’s so disrespectful. How is that for ironic? There was this one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, and all I wanted to do was leave. I also wish I hadn’t worn a skirt, because, HELLO, ASS GRABBING. It did nothing but make me feel less… less whole. Less in control. Less special. It’s not that I mind being single, but I will admit, when I see other people in happy relationships, I get… Ugh, whatever. So that was my night. And now that I wrote that all out I feel so much better, even if I am being a big baby.

Grey





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Crappy night

Grey. First of all, I hope you didn’t just stand there letting some prick cop a feel of your ass. Hearing you talk about it makes me feel shitty and like a dick, because I’ve groped an ass or two. You’re not saying it, but I can hear the frustration in the tone of your message, and on behalf of all douchebags, I apologize for the guy who made you feel violated. Is ‘violated’ even remotely accurate? – Calvin





Grey: Thank you for that email. It made me feel really, really good.

Cal: Really? I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I should double major in counseling.

Grey: Calvin, has anyone told you you’re a very good listener?

Cal: No one—in the history of everybody—has EVER told me I’m a “very good listener.” Let’s not start any rumors to the contrary.

Grey: Well, it’s not like you have a choice but to listen when it’s just me in an email. I’m sure you would have zoned out if you were sitting across the table from me.

Cal: I seriously doubt that.





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Sunday-not-so-Funday

Grey. Feeling any better? I hate weekends. I always feel so f*cking restless. Itchy to do something. Just went for a jog, and I think I’m going to take my kayak down to this small lake (that’s more of a pond) nearby, blow off some steam. We don’t practice on the weekends because sometimes we have matches, so when we don’t have anything going on I tend to get cagey. “Calvin has too much energy” is what my teachers used to say. Drove my mom up a wall. I was always up at dawn, rooting through the kitchen in the dark before school, eating everything in sight before taking a run. At least once a week, my parents thought they were being robbed. My mom’s grocery bills were ridiculous when I lived at home. Costco has a plaque in my honor from all the pasta my mom used to buy there. So, yeah. On that awkward note—I’m going kayaking. Kind of a bummer that I’m going alone. It’s an awesome day out, yeah?