“I’m sorry I drunk texted you all night last night.”
“Trace? What the hell time is it?”
“Um, ten o’clock here so I guess seven o’clock there?”
“Trace, I don’t care if you drunk text me all night. Drunk text all you want but don’t call me at seven in the morning on a Saturday and wake me up to apologize for it.”
“Okay, um… But do you still have an OkCupid profile?”
“Oh shit, okay. I can see you’re not going to go away. Hold on.” I could hear Zeke pull himself out of bed and move to the bathroom. He clicked the door shut. Then he reemerged and I heard the familiar flick of a lighter to light his cigarette. “Alright, what’s going on?”
Continue reading When life gives you lemons, send that shit back and demand champagne.