Almost an hour later, I'm still explaining to Lachlan Kelly every little thing I have to do. I feel like a teacher teaching a kindergartner concepts his mind is not yet ready for.
And he does it on a pure whim, trying to "accidentally" bump into my hand, as if I'm stupid and don't notice he's doing it on purpose. I want to kick him in the balls every time he brings his face close to mine and if he inhales again, trying to catch my scent, I swear I will scream.
I feel like I want to jump out of my skin and the more time I spend in his presence, the more my mind remembers everything I had to do for my father, until I feel the bile rise in my throat.
Muttering an apology, I reach out to grab my glass of water and he reaches out with me, trying to take it in his hand as well. When I feel h
