A: It really was maybe the only redeeming point, getting to kick it with you. Thanks for helping me out.
A: I would like to point out though that we are in fact...talking right now. Oh shit, the wonders of technology! We don’t actually have to miss talking to each other if we don't feel like it, do we?
Right away, she gets a response message agreeing: No, we don’t.
Abby walks out on Christmas Eve and rides with John back to Pittsburgh, but the things that happened this wild past handful of days don't disappear. If anything, they stay with her weeks, months, a year and more later. But they soften, grow, change shape; they shift her life in more ways than she could have anticipated.
Texts from Riley are waiting on her phone when she and John walk back into her and Harper's apartment. She texts Riley back and then they just never stop texting.
I feel like….someone’s watching me.
Eve looks up from the two flimsy boxes in her hands (microwave stroganoff and frozen gluten-free shepherd’s pie) to see that someone was indeed looking intensely her way. A woman stands a few feet away, cart halted, staring right at her. Young, sickly pale, hair in disarray, clung sweaty to her forehead.
Eve figures she should probably address this situation.
|| One overthinking gay's remix of the best queer spy vs spy romance on film, if bits of Season 1 were smushed with bits of Season 2 and it all started with a meetcute in a grocery aisle.