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"I need something to distract me." I announce once I stand in front of my bedroom door, staring at him who seems to be taking the word mi casa es tu casa very seriously.
He's sitting lazily on my couch with a beer bottle on the coffee table, a hand is dipped in the popcorn bowl while another is hidden in the throw blanket -don't ask me what's it doing in there-, definitely enjoying himself while watching a movie. An action movie by the looks of it, not some hand-in-the-blanket kinda movie.
"I need something to distract me," I repeat, "I keep on thinking about what happened at the clinic. Thinking all of the if's. Bad if's. I can't sleep, Owen. Distract me." I sigh loudly but he smiles then
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