I visited my accidental girlfriend at work. She was only my girlfriend by accident because a mutual friend set us up on a date, and then it was just easier to not break up with her. I didn’t like her that much, but I didn’t hate her, but it was fun just to hang out with her, because she was pretty cool.
And she was cool about being my girlfriend all of a sudden. We hung out on weekends, but we didn’t kiss, or anything. If we double-dated with our friends, she would hold my hand, and that was kind of nice. Mostly, though, we hung out and played Scrabble (if we were at her house) or video games (if we were at mine). Mostly hanging out with Bri was cool. But it really, really pissed her off when I visited her at work.
“What are you doing here, Matt?” she smirked. Bri had this scar above her lip that was pink and shiny. When I really thought about it, that scar was the goshdamn sexiest thing I could think of. If you just thought about Bri in terms of the scar and her spiky black hair that just came down to her chin and how she was all compact and tiny, then you totally wanted to just make out with her. But then you thought about Bri in terms of Bri, and that was all over, and everyone was cool again.
Besides, the scar made her damn scary when she smiled. Luckily, Bri wasn’t much of a smiler. She tended to do that amused smirk-and-bob-of-the-head combo. It always freaked me out when she did smile, though.
I shrugged. I had been bored. “Can’t a dude visit his girlfriend every now and again?” Bri was, more accurately, my best friend, but it didn’t really matter. Bri worked in this little swanky shop, where everyone who came in always knew each other, because they were all prominent antique book collectors with a zillion dollars and a zillion degrees and they sneered at Bri because she wasn’t super rich or super educated, but also needed her because she knew how to repair their goddamned books.
From under her antique desk, Bri kicked me in the shin. I grinned. That was the response I’d been hoping for.
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