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All the Meats

Until recently I had gotten lucky. I was able to avoid Voldemort aka Nero. Only that was ending, and it was all Brandon's fault. Ok probably not specifically his fault, but I can trace it back to him. You see Brandon is a Football super fan, and he is married to my best friend. So early on in their relationship he would drag Raine to sports bars, to 'bond'. I call bullshit, I think he dragged her along so he wouldn't have to interact with anyone else with the added bonus of her not being out of his sight. Since Raine and I are a package deal, a two for one on most things I got dragged along. Which resulted in me getting hooked. I mean sexy men in tight pants doing physical things, sign me up.

Well, that love of man in uniform is now resulting in me standing in my best friend's kitchen, in my Clay Matthews Packer jersey slightly hung over having to be in the same place as the ex I want to throat punch. Its Super Bowl Sunday and I refuse to let him ruin it for me, I also refuse to be in the same room as him. When he enters one I exit it, its be a game of musical rooms. Raine finds this hilarious.

"So Are you just going to visit every room in my house?"

"It's a big house, I may not have seen all of them."

"If you say so. Just so you know they finished the food that was on the grill, so if you want to help that hang over might want to get some meat." She mentions before walking off towards the sliding glass door leading to their patio.

Finding it impossible to miss the opportunity I add, "Well you know I do love the meats." Right when we would lose our shit at the classic response, I look up and lock eyes with Satan. I mean Nero. Quickly looking elsewhere, because I heard making eye contact with demons allows them to steal your soul, I glance at who he is with. Brandon smirks at us and his best friend Sebastian joins in.

"Leana, if you love the meat all you had to do was tell me I am always happy to provide." He makes a kissy face at me that forces me out of the awkward moment and causes me to snort.

"Bash, while I appreciate the offer, I must pass. I've learned mishandled meat can lead to salmonella." I shot back.

"Who said it's been mishandled?"

"If it hasn't been handled by me then it's been mishandled." I reply with a cheeky wink. Bash throws his head back and laughs, then walks over and throws his arm around me. He places a peak on my head, and I feel a strong glare beaming into the side of my face.

"Run away with me?" Bash coos.

"I'm not the marrying type." Chuckling I pull away to grab my food.

That evening when I am at home, I pat myself on the back. Its been two months since Nero shat all over us, and while the pain is still there. I am getting better. I don't continuously feel like a whole is gaping in my chest. I no longer cry; I am letting go of the attachments that I missed. I am letting go of the idea of what I thought we could be.

God must want to humble me because as I am reflecting on how much I am letting go and healing my phone goes off.

And would you look at that. Its fucking Satan.