Shrimp Pasta

This is Chapter 2 in the Story of Us series, head here for Chapter 1.

That December your brother and I became close, we would text for hours about my crush on my coworker, discussing theories, trying to figure out whether it was mutual or not, me trying to convince him to use his supervisor-power to give me shifts with said crush.

One afternoon though, as I sat in that bowling alley a little notification with your name popped up on Facebook.

Lunch on me, Sunday? My brother told me about your little problem, I can help.

I was so sure that day that you liked me, and I was so sure that I would never like you back that I purposefully dressed in my shabbiest of clothes; beat up trainers, jeans five sizes too big, and a sweater that used to be my dad’s. I thought that by dressing unattractively I could not-so-subtlety let you know that the only guy I was interested in was our freckled coworker.

The way you lovingly looked at your shrimp pasta that day convinced me that I’d just met my best friend.

That being said, I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting ourselves into that day.


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