The way she poked at her tuna melt, holding her fork in her right hand when she was left handed, and who the hell eats a tuna melt with a fork anyway, Eric was sure Francine was going to unleash a big one.
It wasn’t over, they weren’t over, he knew that. No way. But it was something.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“I’m trying,” Francine said with zero hesitation.
“I love you,” Eric said. “Like, beyond any–or all–the emotions I’ve ever felt.No matter what.”
Francine sat back, swallowed apparently nothing, just the motion.
“I have a weird habit. I…”
“Pills?”
“Fuck no. Those supplements are just that. Supplements. And my birth control. No. Don’t guess. It’s offensive.”
Eric rubbed her palm with his thumb.
A demon in the foggy storm cellar of his head wanted to ask “sexual?” but he remained silent.
“I’m sort of under an NDA on this,” Francine said and Eric almost spit reacting.
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