INTO ANYTHING WEIRD

“You are such a fucking idiot,” Hazel rasps out at Paige, watching him get dressed. It’s such a dick move, getting ready to leave when Hazel’s all tired and happy and it is not like Paige at all. Except for how it is. Honestly, okay, Paige is the most inconsiderate bastard Hazel has ever had the misfortune of sleeping with. “Come back to bed.” “I can’t just come, fucking. Play House with you, Hazel.” And this is such an inappropriate remark, actually, because it is not like Hazel made him dinner and came to greet him at the door in an apron, or anything. All that happened was Paige came over after work, and they watched some matchmaking show on Bravo and then, and this is where it gets funny, is that Paige was the one who was like, “Soooooo. Want to mess around?” Mess around. Like they’re in high school or something. “I don’t. What does that mean?” “Look, I just. Have an early morning.” “No one ever has an early morning, that’s just what you say to people you don’t like.” He pauses, for dramatic effect, pouts and everything. “You don’t like me anymore, Paige?” “Oh my God, fuck you.” Hazel laughs in amazement as he sits up. He wants to fucking shoot Paige in the face. There are three guns in Hazel’s bedroom, alone, he could totally do it. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair and says slowly, “Okay, well. Put some coffee on on your way out.” Halfway to the door, Paige pauses, turns around. “Well, Haze, I mean. I mean, you should sleep, dude.” Dude. Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch. “Yeah, well. I’m not tired. I’m gonna read, maybe watch The Hills. Need inspiration, you know—they want the novel done by August. But I need coffee, so, if you wouldn’t mind? You just haveta press the red button. Like, even you can not fuck it up, I swear.” “What is it that you’re doing, lately?” He glances up, in the middle of lighting a cigarette. He waits for it to catch, and then takes a long drag, before blowing the smoke in Paige’s direction. It’s a childish move, and entirely fruitless, but, you know. No one ever said that Hazel was mature. Maturity is for old people, anyway, and he isn't even twenty seven yet. So. “Writing. Watching The Hills. What are you doing lately?” “No, I mean. Just. If you were into anything weird—” “I’m not.” “Because you seem really stressed.” “I am! I am stressed! I have a job, too, okay? Writing is a job. God! Fuck you!” Published August 26th, 2020 on her Neutral Spaces blog.