Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 11
“You just did. But no, I’m actually sitting on my bed
with my MacBook, lying on my stomach while
scrolling on Facebook. By the way, do you have
one?” He admitted.
“No, I do not have a Face-a-book. Why would an
Italian female co-owner of a thre star pizza place add
a random blabbering idiot on this, uh, Face-a-book?”
I even winced at my terrible accent.
“I am not blabbering! Lose the accent; it’s hard to
understand what you’re saying,” Jonah snorted.
“It is hard to lose an accent after having it for 15
years. That is like asking you to drop eating pizza;
you’re so used to it,” I grimaced at my worsening
“You’re 15?” he inquired.
“16 and 9 months, I don’t know about you but I
didn’t pop out of the womb screaming ‘pizza’ in a
thick Italian accent,” I dropped the accent. My mother
was staring at me with an eyebrow raised and my
brother just shook his head before walking away,
followed by my mother.
“That’s a really nice image,” he laughed and I rolled
my eyes, turning on my MacBook. There’s
something we have in common; we both have
MacBooks. That’s probably one of the only things we
have in common.
“I would love to think so,” I responded.
“So do you?” He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows at
“Do I what?” I asked.
“Have a Face-a-book?” I rolled my eyes.
“Why would I add you? I barely know you; you
could be a stalker. Oh wait, you are,” I told him.
“I’m a bit scared of you, actually,” he admitted.
“And why is that?” I smirked.
“I’ve seen you make a guy bleed with one punch on
the second day of knowing you; well, technically the
first,” he shivered.
“Well, have you made any friends?” For some
reason, I didn’t want to end this conversation. It’s
been a while since I talked on the phone. Aside from
the odd conversation with Mere or my mother, it’s
been quite a while.
“I’d like to say two, but knowing you, you’d say
‘one.’ So, yes, I made one friend,” he responded.
“Who?” I asked him, logging into my Facebook. I
typed in his name in the search bar. Okay, he did his
share of stalking. Can’t I do mine?
“Some girl named Lindsay, or at least she gave me
her number. She told me to text her,” he explained
and I let out a quiet ‘Ahh’ sound.
“That’s Lindsay for you, jumping on anything fresh
and male,” I replied with a snort. “What are you
doing sitting on the phone with me? Call her.”
I was scrolling through his pictures, feeling super
creepy. I looked back to make sure my door was
closed. “No thank you. I thought she seemed a bit…
easy, but now that you’ve said it, my thoughts are
“I speak the truth and nothing but the truth,” I
replied, clicking on the ‘Profile Pictures’ box. “Jonah,
where’d you move from?”
“California. Why do you ask?” he was amused; did
he know what I was doing?
“No reason, just curious. Why’d you move?” I
asked. It just occurred to me that I could seem
pushy. His parents could’ve died or something and
here I am, pushing into his personal life like a
bulldozer, or a human train. Someone say Jeffrey
“My parents travel so much that my aunt and uncle
decided to take us in. It wasn’t much of a change
seeing as I’m with my cousins and sisters, but I
don’t have any of my friends here.” I felt a tinge of
guilt for being so mean to him, but I wasn’t going to
apologize. Odds are I’m going to do it again if he
stays around me.