Something to Talk About || Aimee Morrigan & Evelyn Nicholson
To say Evie was a nervous wreck at the prospect of talking to Aimee after the kiss -as she’d begun to call it in her mind, complete with mental italics and underlined severely- was an understatement. But she’d taken the plunge on her studio break today and after typing the text out about a dozen times, finally hit send.
And now she was sitting on a bench in Central Park, waiting for the girl she’d never really gotten over. She’d come straight from college, her hair was still in its messy ponytail, and her jeans were splattered in paint and would probably fetch some ridiculous price in one of the UES boutiques she walked past everyday. She’d pulled one of her sketchbooks into her lap almost as soon as she’d sat down, trying to distract herself from compulsively checking her phone or descending into her own nervous spiral.
What if she doesn’t show up? What if she decides she doesn’t want to talk to me, or see me ever again? Or what if she does show up and still decides that?
So much for a distraction. I hope she gets here soon, before I do lose my mind.