Let's Waste Time

Chapter Two

I woke up the next morning to find myself still lying on the couch. I was on my stomach with my face on a pillow, and a blanket draped over me. There was a puddle of my own drool on the pillow, and my hair was stuck to my face. My glasses were sitting on the coffee table, so I had to look around in confusion for a moment before I figured out where I was and why I couldn’t see. I couldn’t remember pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, and I didn’t remember taking my glasses off.

Which means there was a gigantic possibility that 81 with the black door did it for me. I lifted the blanket and looked down at my body, but I was still wearing the oversized Star Wars shirt and gray sweatpants. So he removed my glasses and covered me with a blanket. That was very sweet of him.

I stood up and stretched my arms behind my head. Despite sleeping on the couch, I slept okay. I was pretty sure it was just the booze that was responsible and that the apple juice was just to take the edge off. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk, but it helped me sleep. I decided not to tell him that I was two months shy of it being legal. And it probably wasn't any better than my habit of drinking cold medicine.

I shuffled to the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting my workday. When I was done, I went to my small bedroom to find something to wear. I didn’t have a lot of talent in this department. I’d worn hand-me-down clothes through most of my childhood. In adulthood, I shopped at thrift stores and Walmart. And not like cool vintage thrift stores either. Like I had a lot of kid’s camp shirts and a couple of old lady shirts I wore to bed.

My hair was easy to manage too. It was cut to just below my ears and was as brown as brown could get. Sometimes when I was bored, I let my friend Todd dye it colors to change it up. But he didn’t like doing that because I couldn’t sit still long enough for him to dye my whole head.

I put on a beanie that covered most of my hair and then reached for my cheap faux-leather boots. I scribbled a quick thank you note on a Post-It that read, “Thanks for the juice. Slept great. -81A.” Then I grabbed my bag and laptop and left my apartment. I slapped the note on 81’s door.

I usually liked to start my mornings with a fresh cup of hot coffee. I won’t tell you that I was cool and that’s why I walked a few blocks away for the good stuff from Starbucks. Because then I would be a big fat, liar. I chose to do this every morning because; A: I was far too lazy to make my own coffee. B: I didn’t like regular coffee; I liked when it was over sugared and tasted like candy. And C: I had the attention span of a small rodent and would rather buy it already made than have to learn how to do it on my own.

I could also say that I was cool and that’s why I preferred to walk to get exercise and cut back on pollution. But then I would be lying again. The truth was that I just didn’t have a car. I could have taken a cab, but I didn’t have the money for that kind of thing. The bus was a definite no since one time a guy peed on my shoe. And cable cars were too full of pushy tourists to even bother with.

I got to Starbucks and ordered a coffee and some sort of pastry looking thing that probably had more calories than a triple layer chocolate cake. And then I took them to my table and pulled my laptop out of my bag. That was pretty much my life. I got coffee and fattening food, and then I worked. Luckily the company I worked for had started offering service through chat, and this made my job super easy. I could sit and type away and munch on food without worry. The sad thing is that not everyone was up to speed, and I still had to spend half my workday on the phone.

I stayed at Starbucks for about two hours before I took my first break. I logged out and got my laptop back into my bag. Then I got another coffee and headed home to my small apartment. When I got there, I found a yellow Post-It on my door. It said, “Glad it helped. Lord of the Rings at 6. Pizza, beer. Join me?-81.” The boy was speaking my language. I was just worried this might be a date invitation. Though that was probably unlikely. He was the big hulking jock type, and my own attempts at exercise came from my Wii Fit that I bought and played with once. He probably just didn’t have anything else to do and hanging out with the weirdo next door was better than being alone.

I decided to accept the invitation. I did this for three reasons. One, I liked beer. Two, I wanted pizza. And three, I liked Lord of the Rings. So I wrote a quick, “Sure,” on the bottom of his note and stuck it on his door.