Miss Me Not

His words made me want to laugh. It bubbled up in my throat, but I clamped it down. I was already breaking the rules by being his friend.

"Nah, but I stuck a pin in the ass. Did you feel that?"

"Damn, that mofo hurts," he teased.

"Okay, torment is over. I'll put my toys away," I said, trying to sound reluctant.

"So, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

"Watch TV, I guess. How about you?"

"That's what I'm doing. It's nice to watch something that doesn't make my head hurt from overthinking."

"Overthinking an issue for you?" I teased.

"You'd be surprised. My brain needs an off switch for sure. What are you watching? Discovery Channel? Jersey Shore?"

"Gah, I think I just puked a little. Just some sitcom."

"What? I wouldn't have pegged you as a sitcom watcher. Discovery Channel maybe, CNN, or I guess, ESPN."

"Aw, so I see you're trying out for your own comedy spot. Discovery Channel? No. I hate seeing animals hunt each other. CNN? Absolutely not. I need to see the suckage of the world like I need a bullet in the head. As for ESPN, I'm not sure that channel has ever seen the light of day on my TV," I said, pulling the throw blanket over me that was folded at the foot of my bed.

"Hey, that's blasphemy. SportsCenter is a national institution. What about the cooking channels? Please tell me you watch those," he begged.

"I don't cook. Are you telling me you do?"

"Heck yeah. You're talking to the reigning grill master here. My dad handed over the tongs in defeat to me this past summer."

"Impressive. It's been years since I've had anything grilled," I admitted without thinking.

"Seriously? How is that possible? We live in the grilling state," he said incredulously.

I bit my lip, hating that I let my guard slip. "It's just not our thing, I guess."

"Well, I'm making it my mission to prove to you it could be your thing. I make a mean burger," he boasted, making me uncomfortable with the things he was taking for granted.

"Uh, Dean, you know we're not dating?" I said, trying to make sure he knew where I stood.

"Take a chill pill, Mads. Friends can hang out and grub on good food. It's not my fault if you get all hot and bothered watching me dominate the grill."

"Wow, ego much? I think I need to pull out your voodoo doll. I think a little dunking headfirst in a bowl of water will help clear out all the hot air floating around."

"Hmm, maybe I'll make my own voodoo doll of you and stick it in a bowl of sugar to suck up some of the vinegar in you. Turn you all nice and sweet."

"I've never been sweet, and I'm never going to be," I said, tapping the screen to end the call. Hanging up was an easy out. I regretted my impulsiveness instantly. It shouldn't matter that I may have scared him away. But it did.

The phone rang insistently on the bed beside me. I snatched it up immediately and fought the urge not to answer it after the first ring. When I could stand it no longer, I pushed the button, but didn't say anything.

"So, what are you watching now?" he asked, doing a complete one-eighty.

"Still sitcoms," I answered, relieved he'd called back and that he'd gotten the hint. "How about you?" I asked.

"SportsCenter, baby."

"Of course you are."

"So, you are a sitcom junkie, huh? What's your favorite show?" he asked.