“Brandon— He must like me, right?”
Brandon looked at me without answering for a moment, then smiled. We were comfortably curled up on his couch in front of the TV. We had been drinking wine generously and I was noticeably buzzed. Giggly.
“I don’t know,” he replied, honestly, raising his eyebrows as he said it.
“I’m 26— he must, right? Out of his league, or what? You wish, Daddy.”
Brandon burst out laughing. “I really don’t know. You’ve got a point, though.”
A point, like the sharpened tip of a graphite pencil and I was ready to create. “I’ve decided. He must. Thank you for listening.”