Since the night I maturely chose not to take
advantage of her, she retaliated by documenting my entire life: every test I
took, every restaurant I tried, every move I made. People either only hung out
with me to get their names in the paper, or refused to hang out with me because
they didn’t want their names in the paper. My life was an open book. I couldn’t
run away from her. I couldn’t hide anywhere. I had never hated someone so much
as I hated her in that moment my games were shut down.
I devised a plan to get close to her, to force her to like
me, maybe even to fall in love with me. Then I would metaphorically pull down
her pants at recess. I would learn all her secrets and then, when I had taken
what I needed, I would expose her to the world. That’s one of the perks of
being ridiculously wealthy: people listen to you.
In order to make her trust me, I would need to open up to
her first. I would need to seem as though I needed her. I would make her feel
like an equal, make her think I cared.
The ideas were pouring out of me. With every sip of bourbon
I took, a new way to deceive her popped into my mind. I was on fire!
Now, I need you to know that I don’t condone any of the
terrible things I was thinking that night. Deceiving people out of revenge is
really not a good thing. Remember, I was twenty-two and the one thing I cared
about, my gambling games, had just been taken away from me. I wasn’t thinking
clearly. And, you’ll be happy to know, it never worked! I tried, though only
briefly. I tried to let her in. I tried to make her fall in love with me. But
it was as if she could read me from the very beginning. She always seemed to be
one step ahead. I chalked it up to that mind reading thing she had done the
last time I had been in her apartment: the whole wall, tongue, and breaking of
glass trinkets vision.
I entered her apartment thinking I was playing it super
cool. I went in, I told her I would give her an interview, she asked me what
game I was playing, and then I winked at her and left. I was in and out in
under a few minutes.
I went in:
“I can’t believe how small this place is!”
I told her I would give her an interview:
“I’m giving you an interview.”
She asked me what kind of game I was playing:
“What kind of game are you playing, Teddy?”
And then I winked at her and left:
“How’d you know I was playing a game?”
“I assumed as much, but you did just confirm it.”
Wait, why wasn’t I leaving? I remembered winking and
leaving! I stayed? How long did I stay? What was I doing?
“You are a tricky one, Ashley.”
“If I’m so tricky, why do you want to give me an interview?”
“Well, you might not know this, but I’m tricky too.”
Teddy, stop talking. Get out of there! Don’t say another
word!
And I’m talking to my memory again…
Ashley took a step closer. “How are you tricky, Teddy?” Was
she flirting with me? Is that why I was staying?
“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d think you were really
pretty. Like really, really pretty.”
Yes, that was exactly why I was staying.
“You hate me?”
“Of course I hate you! But you hate me too, so we’re even.”
“We are even.”
“But we’re not. Because of you and your stupid little
stories, I have to shut down my poker night.”
“I did that?” Oh my freaking God, she was absolutely leading
me on. With every enticing delivery, she inched her way closer to me. And I was
falling for it! She really was me in female form!
“You did! But don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“The interview?”
She was now close enough to me that we could feel each
other’s breath. She was good: definitely better than I ever gave her credit
for… I watched my eyes roll back in ecstasy. That was weird. I had only ever
felt my eyes roll back in ecstasy. Had I known what rolling my eyes back in
ecstasy looked like, I would’ve
advantage of her, she retaliated by documenting my entire life: every test I
took, every restaurant I tried, every move I made. People either only hung out
with me to get their names in the paper, or refused to hang out with me because
they didn’t want their names in the paper. My life was an open book. I couldn’t
run away from her. I couldn’t hide anywhere. I had never hated someone so much
as I hated her in that moment my games were shut down.
I devised a plan to get close to her, to force her to like
me, maybe even to fall in love with me. Then I would metaphorically pull down
her pants at recess. I would learn all her secrets and then, when I had taken
what I needed, I would expose her to the world. That’s one of the perks of
being ridiculously wealthy: people listen to you.
In order to make her trust me, I would need to open up to
her first. I would need to seem as though I needed her. I would make her feel
like an equal, make her think I cared.
The ideas were pouring out of me. With every sip of bourbon
I took, a new way to deceive her popped into my mind. I was on fire!
Now, I need you to know that I don’t condone any of the
terrible things I was thinking that night. Deceiving people out of revenge is
really not a good thing. Remember, I was twenty-two and the one thing I cared
about, my gambling games, had just been taken away from me. I wasn’t thinking
clearly. And, you’ll be happy to know, it never worked! I tried, though only
briefly. I tried to let her in. I tried to make her fall in love with me. But
it was as if she could read me from the very beginning. She always seemed to be
one step ahead. I chalked it up to that mind reading thing she had done the
last time I had been in her apartment: the whole wall, tongue, and breaking of
glass trinkets vision.
I entered her apartment thinking I was playing it super
cool. I went in, I told her I would give her an interview, she asked me what
game I was playing, and then I winked at her and left. I was in and out in
under a few minutes.
I went in:
“I can’t believe how small this place is!”
I told her I would give her an interview:
“I’m giving you an interview.”
She asked me what kind of game I was playing:
“What kind of game are you playing, Teddy?”
And then I winked at her and left:
“How’d you know I was playing a game?”
“I assumed as much, but you did just confirm it.”
Wait, why wasn’t I leaving? I remembered winking and
leaving! I stayed? How long did I stay? What was I doing?
“You are a tricky one, Ashley.”
“If I’m so tricky, why do you want to give me an interview?”
“Well, you might not know this, but I’m tricky too.”
Teddy, stop talking. Get out of there! Don’t say another
word!
And I’m talking to my memory again…
Ashley took a step closer. “How are you tricky, Teddy?” Was
she flirting with me? Is that why I was staying?
“If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d think you were really
pretty. Like really, really pretty.”
Yes, that was exactly why I was staying.
“You hate me?”
“Of course I hate you! But you hate me too, so we’re even.”
“We are even.”
“But we’re not. Because of you and your stupid little
stories, I have to shut down my poker night.”
“I did that?” Oh my freaking God, she was absolutely leading
me on. With every enticing delivery, she inched her way closer to me. And I was
falling for it! She really was me in female form!
“You did! But don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“The interview?”
She was now close enough to me that we could feel each
other’s breath. She was good: definitely better than I ever gave her credit
for… I watched my eyes roll back in ecstasy. That was weird. I had only ever
felt my eyes roll back in ecstasy. Had I known what rolling my eyes back in
ecstasy looked like, I would’ve
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