"If you've got a stalker you should report them," he chides. It's going to take more delusion than Jeff harbors to make the suggestion sound earnest. Tim's eyes had narrowed with a self-directed stormy edge in the blues.
He wants to comment that Jeff looks like a monkey with his hand over his own head, and Tim isn't sure how to deal with the urge to laugh at it. He bites at his bottom lip, Jeff's words so predictably frivolous and here he is, so predictably taken aback by what he already knows.
"You called the hotline, or... how do you know who she is, if you never met her?"
What's that phrase he's seen on dating profiles? Here for a good time, not a long time. Tim had thought it was trashy. And here he is, huddled in a bunk bed, shirtless and silently comparing scars to scars, desperately hoping nobody turns a key to this tiny room and announces themselves as a new roomie.
--he's jealous too, but like, that's not trashy. That's just normal.
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He wants to comment that Jeff looks like a monkey with his hand over his own head, and Tim isn't sure how to deal with the urge to laugh at it. He bites at his bottom lip, Jeff's words so predictably frivolous and here he is, so predictably taken aback by what he already knows.
"You called the hotline, or... how do you know who she is, if you never met her?"
What's that phrase he's seen on dating profiles? Here for a good time, not a long time. Tim had thought it was trashy. And here he is, huddled in a bunk bed, shirtless and silently comparing scars to scars, desperately hoping nobody turns a key to this tiny room and announces themselves as a new roomie.
--he's jealous too, but like, that's not trashy. That's just normal.