by A. E. Murphy
“I watch a lot of Jeremy Kyle,” he chuckles and I smile with him. “Come on, I’m bored. Let’s go and kick the vending machine until it drops something.”
“I have to get to next class.” I frown, checking the time on my phone. “I’ll catch you guys later?”
“See you later.” Carl picks up the ball and Leroy gives me a wave before they head in the other direction. Then he turns to face me and holds out his hand. I hand him my phone and watch as he inputs his number. “Call me. We might be going back to the mats later.”
“The mats?”
“The trampolines,” he adds and then leaves.
I head towards my next class feeling normal for the first time ever. I’m fairly certain I have friends now that I can hang out with in school and out.
Tyler: Got your number.
Carl: Sorry… new phone, who dis?
Tyler: Dick.
Carl: Nope, you’re the dick.
Carl adds Leroy to the conversation.
Leroy: Your both dicks.
Tyler: *You’re. Stop skipping class.
Leroy: Only if we can play footsie under the table.
Tyler: He’s speaking to you, Carl. Have at it.
Carl leaves the conversation.
Leroy: HAHAHAHAHAHA
Leroy adds Carl to the conversation.
Tyler: I’m in class. Bye.
Leroy: No kisses?
Tyler: Stop ignoring him, Carl.
Carl leaves the conversation.
Leroy: He’s only playing.
Tyler: Duh!
Tyler adds Carl to the conversation.
Tyler: Later.
I find a moment to message Dillan after pulling out my things and placing them on the desk.
Tyler: Are we still on for tomorrow morning?
No reply, well at least not one before class starts anyway.
I don’t go trampolining with Leroy and Carl, even though they invited me; I’ve got too much to do. That and hanging around with them without Dillan is a little bit awkward. I don’t want him to think I’m pushing my way into his life, even if he did drag me into it to begin with. There has always been this part of me that feels as though I’ll be a burden, even to my parents. It’s an issue I’m supposed to work through with Clinton but he doesn’t give a fuck. I wonder if his daughter is as self-centred and disinterested as he is. I hope not for Dillan’s sake; he deserves somebody so special like him.
Dillan: Definitely. What are you doing?
Tyler: Coursework, what else?
Dillan: Aren’t you done for the year yet?
I’m in the middle of typing a response when his name lights up my computer screen, followed by his profile picture. I answer the video call and prop myself up into a more forgiving stance.
“Hey,” I say when his face comes into view. The light hits his profile, highlighting his sharp features. He looks like his mum at this point in time. “How’d your date go?”
“I just dropped her off,” he responds and I hear his fingers tap on the keys. “Were Leroy and Carl all right?”
Smiling, I reply, “They were really nice, invited me to go trampolining.”
“You didn’t go?”
“Do you see me bouncing?”
He laughs through his nose and rolls his eyes. “You could’ve been back by now. Why didn’t you go?”
“I dunno. I guess I just thought it’d be weird without you. I thought they’d maybe asked me to be polite.”
“They don’t know how to be polite,” he jokes and rests his hands under his chin.
“Are you at a desk? Where are you?”
“In my room.” He moves his head to the side and I see the foot of his bed in the background. “Want a tour?”
“Sure?”
“Kidding. It’s a mess; it’s almost embarrassing. I’m surprised my dad hasn’t been in to clean it yet actually.”
“His OCD?”
“Oh yeah. I’m not too bad but I’m not up to his standards.”
“I doubt anybody will be if he’s OCD.”
He grins and his eyes narrow with it, making him look mischievous. “Me and Mum are always winding him up. It’s great.”
“Yeah? How?”
“I’ll show you when you visit. If he’s here then anyway. It’s much more fun in person.”
When I visit? He really is taking me under his wing as his friend.
“How did it go with Clinton’s kid?”
His look of mischief turns to one of confusion. “You mean Leona?”
“Duh.”
“It went good.”
“Did you get your freak on?” I wag my eyebrows after learning this move from Leroy. It makes probing questions open to laughter if the subject feels uncomfortable answering.
He notices. “You’re spending too much time around that knob head.”
Gasp. “Did you just swear?” I place my hand on my heart. “It called for it.”
“I agree. Swear again; you sound sexy.” I giggle, flirting like a whore. I quickly flip the subject. “So, how’d it go?”
“It went fine. We just sat in my car and talked.”
“Talked?”
“There might have been some lip action.” Shudder. “Gross.”
“I literally have no idea what I’m doing.” He cringes. “I thought I did, but I suck.”
“You’re supposed to pucker, not suck.”
“Oh, HA. HA. You know what I mean.”
I squeeze his face into the corner of my screen and reopen my coursework. “This essay will never be right.”
“The Shakespeare one or the one on Churchill?”
“Churchill. I keep rewriting it.”
“You need to get out more. It’s done; leave it. Let it be.”
He’s right. I close the file after clicking save and push my hair back with my fingers. “Have you put any more thought into universities?”
“I’m constantly thinking about it. I’m probably going to stay local. I keep changing my mind.”
“Me too.”
His eyes light up like they do when he thinks of something good. “Road trip!”
“Huh?”
“We should go and tour a few of our top choices, gate crash a couple of parties.”
“With me?” This seems too good to be true.
“Definitely. I’d have way more fun than with Leroy and Carl.
They won’t take it seriously.”
Is that why he likes me? Because I’m serious? “It sounds amazing. Just say when.”
“I’ll plot the course and provide the car; you provide the music.”
He’s not kidding. This is amazing.
“Reckon your parents will mind?” He asks. “We’ll only be gone a couple of days.”
“I doubt it. My mum will most likely provide the condoms.”
At this he groans and looks to the heavens. “Right, that’ll be the foregone conclusion.”
“You speak like an old man.” I laugh when he scowls. “It’ll be fine, Dillan. We’re friends, buddies, whatever. God knows why, because I’m way too good for you.”
“And my old man language.”
“Exactly. Screw everyone else. This sounds amazing and now I’m excited. You can’t let me down.” Then I wince. “What about Leona? I’m not sure she’ll be happy about it.”
He winces too but goes on to explain, “If she doesn’t trust me then we shouldn’t be together anyway.”
“Amen to that.”
“When I do meet the right person, she won’t give me boundaries. She’ll give me trust and I’ll return it.”
“Right?” I agree enthusiastically. “My brother got with this psycho who used to go through his phone and ban him from going to places with certain people, etcetera. So I came up with this theory that people in relationships, like my mum and dad or whoever, should simply be best friends who have amazing sex.”
“By George, you’re onto something!”
“Piss off,” I laugh,
looking away with burning in my cheeks. “It makes sense in my head.”
“No, I completely agree. One hundred percent. Too many people treat a relationship like a dictatorship. It’s their way or no way. It’s like when you start to have sex, you own them and that’s not how it should be.”
“You’re wise like an old man too.”
“If you were here, I’d genuinely yank your hair.”
“Oooh, kinky!” I laugh even harder than before.
“Whatever,” he sighs, still beaming from ear to ear. “I’m going. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, lover.”
He closes the camera leaving me feeling happy and tingly yet slightly deflated. He’s simply solidifying this barrier between us and using the wisdom passed to me in a girl’s bathroom. I’m choosing to take everything I can. Mum says you don’t meet enough good people in life so when you do, hold tight. I’m not going to let him go simply because I can’t have him romantically.
Unfortunately, my mind ramblings of the past couple of weeks just don’t coincide with my body, because seeing what I fear the most in reality slays me.
Him and her, side by side, cheek to cheek, set as her new profile picture.
Saying that I just want to be his friend is one thing; stopping myself from feeling more is another entirely and this has just made me not want to get up this morning.
It’s official. They’re official. They’ve set their statuses to ‘in a relationship’ on Facebook so it must be official.
Fucking official.
I pull the cover up over my head and pray the bed swallows me whole. My hand sneaks out from underneath just to poke a hole in the smothering darkness, enough to allow in oxygen into my cavern of loneliness.
“It’s done,” I snap. “Get over yourself!”
My phone beeps, lighting up the small dark space and near blinding me.
It’s not him and I’m grateful for that. I need space. I need time to get over this. I can’t help how I feel any more than he can help how he doesn’t feel.
Leroy: I have a bong. You game?
Is he serious?
Tyler: I’ve never done drugs in my life. Is this a joke?
Leroy: Hell nawww. I’ll be at yours in ten.
Tyler: You can’t bring drugs here!
Leroy: Chill, no weed, no sweat.
Tyler: Are we staying or going?
Leroy: We’ll decide when I get there.
I have hardly spoken to Leroy all week. Maybe he knows that I’m going out of my mind. He seems rather in tune with the people around him. I doubt it’s a secret to the outside world that I hold a shining torch for Dillan. I follow him around like a puppy. I’ve been to the shelter with him three times this week, for the dogs too but mostly because I’ve been trying to force my way into his heart and it’s not working. He doesn’t see me that way and I’m tired of the repetitive hurt I’m putting myself through.
This has to stop.
When Leroy opens my front door without knocking, I’m halfway down the stairs.
“Holy shit!” I gape at him and the small gash on his forehead that’s seeping a small amount of blood, which is building up in his dark, thick eyebrow. “What happened? Are you okay?”
He presses the heel of his palm to his head and plays with a lip piercing that looks fresh.
“Seriously, answer me,” I demand and move to get a better look at him. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He wipes the blood onto the black sleeve of his jacket and looks around my house. “Sorry for just letting myself in. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s starting to swell.” I grab his arm and pull him into the kitchen. “You need ice and a Steri Strip.”
I’m grateful when he doesn’t oppose my aid. He sits quietly as I spray the area with antiseptic and wipe it down with clean materials from the first-aid kit. When I Steri Strip the small, yet seemingly deeper than originally thought, wound, I see him wince and quickly apply the ice pack I have waiting.
“What happened? Not that I’m an expert, but it looks like you were punched in the head?” I tread cautiously with a careful tone, but he stares at my collar bone, his sharp brown eyes slightly dazed. Is he concussed or stoned?
“I was,” he answers, his tone quiet yet level.
“Do you… do you want vodka?”
His eyes meet mine and his good eyebrow rises with his lips. “You have vodka?”
“I’m not a total loser, you know.” I lick my lips and check my watch. “I’ll just go and get it.”
“Is it in your room?” He’s far too excited by this and jumps up, beating me to the stairs and opening three doors in the hall before settling on the right one.
I don’t have time to feel awkward as he’s diving on my bed with his shoes on and pulling my laptop onto his lap.
“Stalking Dillan’s new girl?” He grins wickedly.
“Piss off.” I slam the laptop shut and snatch it away. “I was just being nosey.”
“Sure,” he chuckles, though I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
Rolling off my bed, he starts rifling through my drawers.
“You have no sense of boundaries,” I snap and shove him back to the bed. He pulls out his phone while laughing and holds it above his face. I silently wish he’d drop it on his nose.
“What’s with the piercing?”
“Felt like it.”
“It actually suits you.”
“Thanks.” He sits up sharply. “Vodka?”
Kneeling beside the bed, I reach under and pull out a box full of my coursework from last year. The vodka is hiding beneath multiple folders. Mum would never look here for booze, not that she’d ever snoop anyway.
“It hasn’t even been opened,” he laughs. “There’s me thinking you were a secret rebel.”
“Hey, I’m not doing so badly.” I fold my arms and raise my chin. “I have alcohol and a boy in my room who has piercings, tats and looks like he’s been fighting.”
“Shit, lass, you went from zero to ninety.” With that he untwists the foil cap and has a large gulp. “I hate vodka.”
I laugh at his wheezing and do the same, but my gulp is a lot smaller.
“We should play strip poker.”
“Get a grip.” I toss him the remote to the TV. “Have at it.”
“I hate TV; it numbs my brain.”
“Then put the radio on.”
He takes the vodka from me. “I think I prefer this to the weed. My nose is already tingling.”
“Mine too,” I snort and touch it with the tip of my finger. It feels as though it’s buzzing. We giggle together like tipsy school girls. “Why’d you come here anyway?”
“Should I not have?”
“No, I’m happy you did.”
“Then don’t moan.”
Eye roll. “I’m not moaning.”
“Your tone is whiney.”
“And yours is superior.”
He grins and puffs out his chest. “Well I am the one with the penis here.”
“Oh god… don’t even…” I laugh loudly and almost throw up the vodka I’ve already consumed when I take another swig.
“Are you parents coming home anytime soon?”
“Mum, yes, Dad, no. He’s at some kind of conference for dentists in Birmingham.”
He cringes. “Sounds boring.”
“Yup.” Then I ask, “What do you want to do when you leave school?”
“I want to get the hell out of here. I want to travel.”
“You need money to travel.”
“I have money. I just don’t have it until I’m twenty-one. Until then I’ll do as I’m told and study. I need something to fall back on if my travelling and living off the land doesn’t work out.”
He’s deadly serious and I feel terrified for him. “Are you going alone?” Maybe he’ll change his mind by then, but part of me doesn’t want him to. It sounds like an amazing adventure.
“Are you coming with
me?”
“I can’t. My next five years are mapped out.”
“Is that the only reason you can’t?”
“That and I don’t like walking.” When he offers me the bottle, I shake my head. I’ve had enough for now until the alcohol I’ve consumed catches up with me.
“You run every day with Dillan.” Shrug. “That’s to lose weight.”
“You can lose weight on the road.” I can’t tell if he’s serious or if we’re just having one of our pointless arguments. As if sensing my confusion, he changes the subject. “What do you want me to do when your mum gets home? Hide or announce myself?”
“She won’t be home until late.”
He rolls his tongue over his plump lower lip and glances at the window awkwardly. “I’ll hide.” Meaning he won’t be gone when she gets back.
I watch his throat bob with another gulp of the vodka and hold my hand out for the half empty bottle. “You’re going to pass out if you’re not careful. You’re necking this like water; it’ll kill you.”
“Only for the night.” He grins and his dazed eyes redden with the effects. “You’re the best, you know that?” Uh-oh, drunk talk. I stand ready to move to open the windows, but his next sentence freezes me in place. “You always know what to say to make me feel good.”
“I do?”
“He’s an idiot,” he mumbles and rubs his eyes with both hands. “He’s only with her because he’s worried what people will think if he gets with you.”
Ouch.
“Ty…” He shuffles forward and looks me directly in the eye. It helps me to focus on him and not the pain. “I didn’t mean it like that. He’s just… Dillan is eager to be the perfect boy in the perfect family. You’re damaged; you’re higher maintenance than that stick insect he’s dating.” He continues, standing so that we’re on the same level. Well, almost as he’s three inches taller than me at least. “He doesn’t deserve you and you… you need somebody who’s like you.”
“Like me?”
“Somebody with secrets.” He steps closer, so close I feel his body heat against mine. “Somebody who gets you.”
Gulp. My throat feels suddenly dry. “You’re drunk.”
“Maybe.” He smiles and slides a hand onto my waist. “At least it’s giving me the courage to say what I wanted to say.” His other hand circles my bicep to keep me in place. I feel trapped. I’m trembling. “He’s not worth your time.”