"You Don't Have to Be Everything," I told her softly as I dropped her other shoe on the floor. "It's a poetry book. Don't ask me to list the authors. That, I do not know."
I chuckled as I moved up the bed to sit next to Otti. I brushed some hair out of her face. All she did was stare up at me, clearly dazed and clearly still drunk.
"You... do know a lot about me." She mumbled.
"I told you," I said. "I know that you hate mustard, sweet drinks, Algebra class, and being late for anything. I know that you love underground rap music, iced coffee, and reading poetry. I know that your family and friends mean more to you than anything..."
I trailed off as I gently rubbed my thumb across Otti's bottom lip. I shouldn't have started spilling my guts out like that. I'm sure Otti won't remember any
