The most relaxing and calm part of my day, as far as Shelly’s concerned, is that I’m no longer obsessed or admittedly worried about her quirkiness. A minor issue compared to everything happening now. Thought I’d never say this, but part of me wants to go back to the way it was before when it was just the two of us.
My life was a picnic on the beach before all this. Imagine you’re on a beach under a blue sky while the warm sun heats the sand. The surf’s rolling slowly, and a gentle breeze cools your skin. You’re just lying there, staring up at fluffy patches of white clouds, minding your own business when out of nowhere, BAM! A raging storm clouds the sky, ruining your perfect day.
In my case, that storm is Hurricane Samantha. She showed up and pissed rain all over my perfect, sunny day. And you know what? It gets worse! The eye of this hurricane feels centered squarely on me, and it wants to kick my ass or worse.
The drama now pales in comparison to Shelly running hot and cold. And, speaking of pale, that ashy girl Sammy looks anemic and the more I’m around her, the weirder she gets. I’m not knocking her if she’s into the gothic, wanna be vampire roleplaying scene, but she’s taking that dominatrix routine way too far. Dragging Tim around with a dog collar was funny the first few times, but now it’s just getting old. I sure hope the sex is worth it, if he’s getting it.
Speaking of which, I’m starting to wonder if this goth girl’s fetish is what turned Shelly on before and maybe still does.
Her pasty skin, those oxygen deprived bluish colored lips, her dark eyes, and the way she controls the people around her (especially Tim), all have a noticeable effect on Shelly. It’s more than obvious Shelly loves it, and I find it worrisome that she beams with approval.
I haven’t felt especially enthralled when Sammy’s around, but she does make me nervous. I’m certain Shelly’s noticed my uncomfort, and I suspect that’s the reason she was so hands-on when I walked her home. There’s no way Shelly was oblivious to Sammy eyeballing me, and I think that’s the point.
I really hope this isn’t some sort of cruel sport that Sammy has going on where she’s trying her damnedest to get a rise out of me while team Shelly eagerly watches my reaction. I’ll be damned if these two haven’t done this before.
I don’t know what’s worse. That I’m a squeaky toy about to get chewed up in a tug of war or that I want Shelly more now that Sammy’s around.