#Chapter225
I storm from the shelves before I get the urge to throw something at him and grab a throw pillow from the couch instead. It’s made from some sort of fur, like real fur; flat, smooth rawhide kind of fur and I grimace as I touch it. It’s awful and I am so anti real fur!
I turn and throw that at him in disgust instead, trying to vent some of this spiraling energy inside of me that’s fit to burst out. He dodges and frowns, still trying not to smile and I do not see what is funny about this at all. Never understood his complete infatuation with my tantrummy side, or that he finds it both cute and amusing when I am on the verge of causing him bodily harm.
He is so fucking weird.
