here’s to happy couples
Jessica had wrangled me away from the crowd and back into my bedroom on some premise. We were doing shots in the kitchen and then something about needing me to do something for her or something. That I don’t remember what it was is reasonable. She wasn’t the highlight of my evening. Plus I didn’t really pay attention to most of what she said. It was usually useless bullshit. Who the fuck cares about being in high school anymore? That was fucking years ago and shit.
I knew this moment had been coming since I began stringing this little bitch on after meeting her. She had wanted my sweet sweet shit from the get go. And there was something about her that drew me in. A certain naiveté that I couldn’t help but exploit. I figured it would come to no good. But when has a thought like that ever stopped me? I’m a bad man. A bad bad man.
She had been drinking more than I had. Not just the shots. And her tolerance was clearly much lower. Not everyone is a power drinker like me. She was one drink away from covering my bed in dinner and half of lunch. That only made her all the bolder. She mumbled something about ‘it’s just you and me now’ as she slammed the door closed; not realizing it bounced right back open. As if I needed more clues that she wasn’t all there tonight. As if that would have affected anything in the end anyway.
She took off her shirt in what I assume she meant to be a sexy strip tease. But it wasn’t. At all. People should really stick to what they know. I stopped her before she took off anything else. Before she got herself so far gone down the line that there would be no recovering any of her misplaced dignity. Then she tried to make out with me. Or I guess, she did make out with me. For a while. Because I was thinking of the best way to stop her/not thinking of anything at all. I wasn’t trying too hard. Even though she wasn’t that great of a kisser. The rhythm was off. We just didn’t mesh. One more reason, not that I really needed it. In the end.
“Jess. No.” I pushed her away. She almost fell over. This just wasn’t right. And not just because she was too drunk to stand.
“Your eyes say ‘no’ but your mouth says ‘yes.’” She tried to kiss me again. After all that I couldn’t even laugh at the stupidity. Clearly I needed to get out of this situation.
“No, my mouth says no.” She tried to fondle me; down there. That’s right. Tried.
“Widdle Isaac wants to come out and pway.”
“Just stop. You’re being ridiculous.” And annoying. How do I get rid of her? Why did I even let her back here? “Go to bed. Just go to the guest room and sleep it off.” So long as they aren’t still using it to blaze. Not that she would be able to tell the difference.
“I want you to be my first.” That she was so solemn when she said that, coming almost completely out of her drunken haze made me think she had been planning this shit for a while. That made me even more depressed. “I want you to have all of me.” She tried dancing again. The girl can’t handle it sober. The results while drunk were beyond pathetic.
“You’re drunk and deluded.
“I’m not drunk.” She fell over. Just straight up fell on her cute little ass.
“You don’t want me to be your first. Not me. Not like this. You’re the kind of girl who waits till her wedding night. Or at least until college. Not till she has had five beers and six shots of plastic bottle vodka.”
“But I luv ya.” Now I was offended. She can go ahead and tell me that all she wants when we’re all sober and joking around and I can laugh it off like its nothing. But not now. Not like this. This isn’t love. I can’t laugh at this. This isn’t pretend shit anymore.
“No, you don’t. You don’t even know what love is.” Love is caring about someone more than you care about yourself. Not getting drunk and trying to get laid. Kids these days. What the fuck is wrong with them?
“But I luv ya.” As if repeating herself would make a difference. She tried to kiss me again and I pushed her away. Again. She fell. Again. She barely even noticed. She was about to try again. And probably would have kept trying all night long. But Nicki came to the rescue. Sweet relief.
There she was standing in the doorway. Black hair cascading over her pale skin. Her perky tits barely covered by some spaghetti strap or another. It might have been blue. Or orange. My bottle of Corazon in one hand and two shots in the other.
“Love him or not, cutie, it ain’t happening tonight. So why don’t you just find your way back to the rest of the party. And leave us grownups to talk.” I had been more than clear and it hadn’t moved Jess in the slightest. Nicki shows up and Jess scurries out with her tail between her legs. The fuck are you gonna do? Though there was quite a pout going on as she stomped out into the living room. Nicki closed the door. And locked it.
“Not into the whole schoolgirl fetish?” That same impish smile. Does it for me every time.
“Bah. The schoolgirl fetish is more about knee socks and micro mini plaid skirts than age. And like every other fashion statement: if you look good, you’ll look good in anything. If not, you’re fucked.” Like you. You would look great as a schoolgirl. “Thanks for the help.”
“Not a problem, baby. So why? I mean, she looks good enough.”
“She’s fucking 16.”
“Which means she is legal in our fair state.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“That wouldn’t bother most of the guys at this party.
“Yeah, well, my friends are degenerates… I don’t know what it is. I don’t mind destroying the beautiful, but I guess I draw the line at perverting the innocent.”
“Hate to break it to you, Holden, but she probably won’t be so innocent tomorrow. With or without your help.” She held up Jess’ shirt that had been left behind.
“Probably not. Not going out into that group that drunk and that horny.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” “Not really. What doesn’t happen to me or around me tends not to concern me.” I never said I was a nice guy. “But that’s not why you found your way over here.”
“You read me so well.” Ah, yes: the sarcasm. I love it when they can keep up with me. That warm and fucking fuzzy feeling. Just like that smile.
She handed me one of the shot glasses and poured them both.
“Here’s to hangovers.” This was the beginning of something.
“Why not?” Tonight was going to be a good night. Or at least it had potential.
We drank a few. It was a party. I don’t know what you do at a party. But we drink.
“Came alone again, I see.” I might as well get to the point. Coming to my house without her boyfriend and drinking is just asking for trouble.
“You are so perceptive.”
“I like to try.”
“We might be having a few problems on the home front.” That doesn’t mean anything. That one has backfired on me before.
“You know, I’m not so qualified for sympathy.” It’s not that I don’t try. It’s just that I’m not very good with emotions and all that.
“No shit. You’ve been trying to get with me for two months now. Do you really think I would come to you with a bottle of tequila if I was looking for sympathy?” Now what was that look all about? It was almost as charged as when I stare into her deep green eyes and then just … drift … away … and. No! Gotta stay in the moment.
“Here’s to happy couples.” We drank some more. It was a while before she said anything. She came to me, I waited for her.
“He is just so needy.” It was sort of out of the blue. But I wasn’t really surprised. “Do you realize that he calls me like 10 times a day. And does he have anything to tell me? No. Is that normal?” Not really normal. But isn’t that what girls want? I always thought they wanted guys to call them all the time to check in.
“Uhh.” I mean I could see that he was too needy. He wasn’t good enough for her. And they both knew it. And I knew it too. So did most everyone who knew them. None of us understood how that fucking relationship held together. But maybe she was asking a lot of him? Eh. I’m not going to feel sorry for the fucker.
“Would you do that?”
“Well, no.” That’s not how I roll. I hate phones and I am not a fan of relationship stupidity. Though Brian was kind of a douche. He was one step away from calling her ‘Shmoopie.’ We took another shot.
“That’s what I mean. Sometimes I wonder who is really wearing the pants in this relationship.” Fuck, Nicki. You should know by now that you will wear the pants in any relationship you ever get into. That’s just how you are. Another shot
“You know I know absolutely nothing about relationships… Ones that work anyway.” Fuck. Why did I have to bring up Amy now? There goes tonight. There goes months of solid work. There goes…
“Don’t worry, Isaac. She’ll come back to you. One of these days.” Another shot. “But in the mean time there is no reason why you should be lonely.” One last shot before…
There is something comforting about waking up next to someone you care about. Especially when she is naked. Also, no we would not make a good couple. We won’t start dating. And I don’t know how long it will be before she tells her boyfriend that I occasionally keep her company through the cold dark night.