It's September and I need a roommate. I couldn't live in the dorms anymore. I was fed up of being paired with idiots. I was done sharing my kitchen and my bathroom with an entire floor. When I signed the lease for my apartment, I did it with the guy...
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It's July and we go watch a movie, a new Jurassic one, whichever it is, that Holt was really looking forward to see. I don't really care about it, but it's Holt, so I'll say yes to whatever he wants to watch. Anyway, I'll say yes to anything that can distract me from how pathetic my life is becoming.
The movie theatre we go to is one where there are those big couch looking seats in the front.
I swear, Holt literally skips to them.
"Holt, there are real seats behind you."
He looks at me with his stupid puppy dog eyes. "But... couch!"
"Jesus Christ almighty give me strength," I mumble and I cave in.
Holt is freaking beaming.
After the previews, when the movie starts, Holt throws his ankle over mine.
Every time where there's a scene where he gets all giddy he grabs my arm and shakes it, smiling like an idiot.
It's like he wants to make sure I'll stay obsessed with him forever. Oh sorry Eliah, did you think you were maybe moving on from me. Nah fam, check this out.
I hate when he touches me like that. Not because it's unpleasant, but because it shows how truly deprived of touch I am.
Sure I have people touching me when they play with my pee-pee, but it's not the same thing. I don't feel it deep in my bones when they do. They're touching me with a purpose. There's something so much more intoxicating when it's just a simple touch, with no purpose, just a soft physical contact.
