Harry Potter should have been the most exciting part of my day today. I made sure I got done everything else I needed do because I was sure I wouldn't be able to tear myself away from the book for anything less than a level 5 earthquake.
And then, a mere 30 pages in, Roseboy calls.
I had taken the dustjacket off to protect it, and when I jumped to answer the phone, I accidentally creased it down the spine. That's intense.
And the moment the conversation started, my stomach started to turn. I could barely breathe, I was nervous. I had to go to the bathroom. It was a particularly painful and uncomfortable conversation. I mean, the conversation itself was fine, but I was physically falling apart at the seems despite how normal the interaction would prove.
You see, it's been two full days since I've talked to him.
I'm starting to wonder if this infatuation is healthy, literally and figuratively. Especially since I'm shipping off to the land of Harry Potter himself in less than two months.
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This baby wants to talk about sex.
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