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⊰ 19 ⊱ Not a Date: Part 1
It’s not a date.
There are people who are punctual–like me. I’m always conscious of time, a sticker for being on schedule. Then, there are people who are not so punctual–like Cade.
He believes that punctuality is only warranted for things that ‘matter’ or are ‘important’.
Does this fall under the category of ‘important’?
It’s 5 minutes to 8PM, and I’ve switched out cardigans twice and rearranged the cushions on the couch four times.
I’m not in denial. I’m very aware of how nervous this shouldn’t make me. I’m also very aware of how unnecessarily anxious I am, and if there were a way to cope by merely acknowledging my discomfort, I wouldn’t be pacing so much between re-doing chores that I had already done the moment that I got home.
At Bubbles’ very audible sigh, I snap my eyes to meet his beautiful golden-brown ones. “You’re just tired of my shit, aren’t you?” I ask sarcastically.
As if on cue, a knock echoes t
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