by L. D. Davis
“Yeah, you’ve been okay. Almost normal.”
“I don’t mean to be. I mean I guess obviously I mean to be a dick sometimes, but sometimes I just can’t help it. Life has just molded me that way.”
“That’s a load of crap Kyle Sterling. You make choices in life. You can choose to be a dick, or not to be a dick.”
He was quiet. I didn’t know if he passed out or if he was thinking about what I said. After a few minutes he said “You never talk this much at work.”
“I told you, I say a lot with my eyes and my facial expressions.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You keep me too busy for conversation.”
“You’re different now than you are at work. You barely object to me, let alone call me a dick.”
“Work is work. Outside of work is outside of work. I know how to be professional.” At that moment, I remembered that I was wearing puke pants. I jumped up and started to undo my jeans.
“What are you doing?” He asked. Even though there weren’t any lights on in the family room, light from the foyer gave the living room an eerie glow, and we could see each other a little bit.
“I’m wearing puke pants!” I stripped out of the jeans and turned the light on. I wanted to make sure I didn’t get any puke on my Mom’s couch. She would kill me and bury me inside of the thing.
After thoroughly searching the couch for traces of puke, I looked at Kyle, who was looking at my underwear with a stupid smile on his face.
“Who lives in a pineapple under your jeans?” He sang softly. “SpongeBob booty pants!” He ended his little song with a soft slap to my rear.
I stared down at him, a hand on my hip.
“You’re a pig.”
“I thought I was a dick.”
“You’re a pig dick.”
“Now we’re going into new and crazy territory,” He laughed and I couldn’t help but to laugh with him.
I sat down beside him again. Why, I don’t know, when I could have sat on the loveseat, or in the big chair, or on the floor, or on the moon or anywhere else besides right next to an attractive drunk man when I was drunk and half naked myself. I wasn’t seated for more than a few seconds when he leaned over, grabbed the back of my head and kissed me. I kissed him back for a moment, before remembering who and what he was. I pulled away, and when he tried to pull me back, I put a hand on his chest.
“No, Kyle,” I was saying no, but his kiss was awesome. My lips were getting all pissy with me because I stopped and said no. “It’s the alcohol that’s making you like this. You’ll regret it in a few hours.”
“Give me more to regret then.” He pushed me back on the couch and kissed me again. I should have stopped him again. I didn’t think he was going to make me do anything I didn’t want to do, but I didn’t stop him. I kissed back and didn’t stop his hands from roaming wherever they wanted to.
“You’re still a dick,” I whispered into his ear, and then he proved to me what a dick he really was and I hoped my mom would never find out what we did on her couch that night.
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