feel uncomfortable and I don't like it! So, just... knock it the fuck off! Tons of people have asthma! Or worse shit than that. Way worse," I ranted, chest heaving as I let them all have it, blowing up on all of them, letting everything I keep bottled up just explode out of me and splatter all over them.
Their snickers at my pork and honey mishap quickly died a sudden death as I lost it a little, eye twitching in anxiety, hands fisted, giving me away.
I need to clarify here , I thought, trying to clear my thoughts, get myself in order.
"I can't do... fake ," I continued, calmer, trying to explain, getting everything off of my chest, "I don't like when people act secretive or different with me, try to protect me when I don't feel I need it, or try to find some roundabout way to get me to do the things they want me to without asking me. I can take care of myself- have been for years. If I wanted or needed your help or opinions, I'd ask for it!"
They all had identical expressions of shock on their faces.
And now I feel like shit...
Way to go, me! I thought self-mockingly.
My head started pounding as my stomach dropped.
This is what you always do, Vieve, push people away. Make them hurt when you feel awkward or feel like they’re pitying you, effectively making it easier to get them to leave you alone.
What the hell else am I supposed to do, though?
I can't have them feeling guilty or treating me like glass for the next however long.
I want to hang with the 'real' Harrison men, not the lemmings of a few minutes ago.
I need ‘real’ people!
Real.
Seriously, no sugar coating required.
Even if it means being Thatcher's pookiekins for the next few weeks...
Nickname wise, not physically.
I fought hard not to roll my eyes at the very idea.
I'm pretty sure his mushy talk is all an act though, but I can't be too sure.
God, I hope he's not for real.
Thatcher's silliness aside, they didn't do anything mean or anything… Did they deserve my ass chewing?
A lump of guilt assailed me, settling into the pit of my stomach.
At the same token, they were just trying to help, I thought, rubbing my eyes.
When was the last time someone offered to help me out? I had to ask myself. Ruthie and Barry not included.
Probably never.
And maybe that's part of my problem.
I'm not real sure how to even let someone help me, let alone let them in.
It would involve a certain level of intimacy that I'm not quite ready for.
I laughed, a little thrown off balance by that particular thought.
Can someone be too independent? To the hindrance of themselves instead of the benefit?
It's because they care. Actually give a shit, I realized suddenly, a little loath to admit that despite the brevity of our short acquaintance, I've come to care about them too.
They’re like the crazy awesome family I’ve never had.
Caring just makes everything more complicated, I commiserated.
I looked down for a minute and willed the stupid tears I was getting ready to shed back.
I don't deserve friends like this, I thought sadly , they're all being so nice to me, Reeve excluded, and this is how I thank them?
Clearing my throat, I looked up and chewed on my lip for a minute.
They all looked at me patiently and waited.
"I get it, I do. You guys feel bad because you had your poker game in the house, smoked some cigars and what not and it irritated my lungs. It happens, guys. Shit happens. Life happens. You didn't do it on purpose. How could you have known?"
I glanced at Reeve and added especially to irritate him - because I'm petty, he's an ass, and his feelings don't count. Plus, I'm contrite about my blow up on the guys, not at him, "At least I know most of you didn't do it on purpose... So, just forget about it, okay. Can we just, uh... move on?" I asked hopefully, ignoring Reeve as he gaped at me.
"I didn't do it on purpose! I don't want you gone that bad! I wanted to make you huff off and get pissy about the poker game, set you one step closer to
Their snickers at my pork and honey mishap quickly died a sudden death as I lost it a little, eye twitching in anxiety, hands fisted, giving me away.
I need to clarify here , I thought, trying to clear my thoughts, get myself in order.
"I can't do... fake ," I continued, calmer, trying to explain, getting everything off of my chest, "I don't like when people act secretive or different with me, try to protect me when I don't feel I need it, or try to find some roundabout way to get me to do the things they want me to without asking me. I can take care of myself- have been for years. If I wanted or needed your help or opinions, I'd ask for it!"
They all had identical expressions of shock on their faces.
And now I feel like shit...
Way to go, me! I thought self-mockingly.
My head started pounding as my stomach dropped.
This is what you always do, Vieve, push people away. Make them hurt when you feel awkward or feel like they’re pitying you, effectively making it easier to get them to leave you alone.
What the hell else am I supposed to do, though?
I can't have them feeling guilty or treating me like glass for the next however long.
I want to hang with the 'real' Harrison men, not the lemmings of a few minutes ago.
I need ‘real’ people!
Real.
Seriously, no sugar coating required.
Even if it means being Thatcher's pookiekins for the next few weeks...
Nickname wise, not physically.
I fought hard not to roll my eyes at the very idea.
I'm pretty sure his mushy talk is all an act though, but I can't be too sure.
God, I hope he's not for real.
Thatcher's silliness aside, they didn't do anything mean or anything… Did they deserve my ass chewing?
A lump of guilt assailed me, settling into the pit of my stomach.
At the same token, they were just trying to help, I thought, rubbing my eyes.
When was the last time someone offered to help me out? I had to ask myself. Ruthie and Barry not included.
Probably never.
And maybe that's part of my problem.
I'm not real sure how to even let someone help me, let alone let them in.
It would involve a certain level of intimacy that I'm not quite ready for.
I laughed, a little thrown off balance by that particular thought.
Can someone be too independent? To the hindrance of themselves instead of the benefit?
It's because they care. Actually give a shit, I realized suddenly, a little loath to admit that despite the brevity of our short acquaintance, I've come to care about them too.
They’re like the crazy awesome family I’ve never had.
Caring just makes everything more complicated, I commiserated.
I looked down for a minute and willed the stupid tears I was getting ready to shed back.
I don't deserve friends like this, I thought sadly , they're all being so nice to me, Reeve excluded, and this is how I thank them?
Clearing my throat, I looked up and chewed on my lip for a minute.
They all looked at me patiently and waited.
"I get it, I do. You guys feel bad because you had your poker game in the house, smoked some cigars and what not and it irritated my lungs. It happens, guys. Shit happens. Life happens. You didn't do it on purpose. How could you have known?"
I glanced at Reeve and added especially to irritate him - because I'm petty, he's an ass, and his feelings don't count. Plus, I'm contrite about my blow up on the guys, not at him, "At least I know most of you didn't do it on purpose... So, just forget about it, okay. Can we just, uh... move on?" I asked hopefully, ignoring Reeve as he gaped at me.
"I didn't do it on purpose! I don't want you gone that bad! I wanted to make you huff off and get pissy about the poker game, set you one step closer to
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