it’s not about me getting my way

“you’ve got to try this bubble tea.”
“I’m not sure … but it’s not about me getting my way.”

he stared at me, dubiously. I couldn’t tell for sure by looking because his aviators are 100% opaque and so I was only going off what I could feel, but I was for positive based on that he was mentally weighing how much he wanted to let me know that he’d do anything I asked. (really asked)

“It’s just a thing, i like to share, i like when people try things.”
“Can I use your straw?”
Yes. I knew I was going to win (not that this was about me getting my way).
“I mean you don’t have mouth herpes, right?”
I’m going to ignore that that is kind of mean because he’s got a goofy grin that tells me I shouldn’t push this too far andplusalsotoo I’m really enjoying his company, so
“Not of which I am aware…” I begin to say, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s already drinking.

“Tastes like chocolate milk.”
“Yaaay!!!” I clap and take it back and suck down some tapioca because I love bubble tea and I love sharing and yes, duh, I’m a pretty big fan of getting my way because I’m a big old sinner. There. I said it.


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