How could I pretend I don't want to see you again?

Dear Jack,
Your face scruff gives me amazing little face scratches when you kiss me. Your cuddles are epic, and I kind of like the fact that you can pick me up with no trouble whatsoever-- useful, I must say. Playing with your hair is incredibly amusing, and I'm pretty sure you enjoy playing with my breasts just as much, especially when we did both at the same time!  Spending 24 straight hours with you was pretty spectacular, not going to lie-- who knew you could have so much fun chain smoking on a couch listening to fucking fantastic music all night? Speaking of incredible music, I'm listening to that song you made me hear with the incredible guitar riff towards the middle... instant full body orgasm. Seriously. I've been getting out of my goth style and more towards that dirty, gritty, sweaty mid 90s British style rock and roll, and this song is now the official soundtrack for my skinny jeans.

On a more serious note, I'm immeasurably grateful that you and I are on the same page about how this is going to work between us. How could I argue with the best set up EVAR???? Casual relationship: check. Becoming close friends: check. Touchy feely awesomeness: check. Starry eyed cuteness: check. Obligations: none. And I think keeping us on the down low is the best idea; other people wouldn't understand (especially your ex...) and Jude doesn't need us flaunted in his face, he's having a hard enough time coping with all this. Both of you talking shit about the other is pretty amusing, especially since I'm convinced you two would be best friends if it weren't for me. How sad. =D

I feel I must comment on this before I burst: your ex works at a bookstore  less than a hundred feet to the left of the salon, you work at the bookstore literally next door on the right of the salon... and I'm smack in the middle. It still makes me laugh... a lot.

OH!!! AND!!!!
"Remember that time I showed you (book title)?"
"Yeah."
"Remember the blond standing next to you?"
"Yes."
"That was her."
"...ah."

...call me twisted, but considering that was maybe two weeks ago and a completely random coincidence that could have been foretold by a grand total of NO ONE, that's pretty fucking hilarious.
Then again, I'm a sick bitch and I know it.
And I know you like it.

I'm not sure you realize it, but you paid me a huge compliment today that I feel should not go unnoticed.
"It's nice to have someone I can actually talk to. I'll probably be able to write later because of it."
From one writer to another, let me just say I melted a bit.
Speaking of melting, HELLO! Your artwork? Oh. My. Goddess. I nearly died when I walked in and saw what you had up on your walls, let alone what was strewn across your work desk. Gorgeous, absolutely breathtaking, I have no words. And was that chalk drawing on the wall in the hallway of me? Not very many people have those features, or that hair, or that pentacle necklace... Hm. Maybe I was just imagining.
But I doubt it.


I'm looking forward to having a lot of sex with you.

xoxoxoxoxo, Ms. Annie