Save Me - Lex - Drawing
1119 Words
“That was freaking awesome!” Bryan yells.
I smile, “Hey Bry?”
“Yeah?” he yells.
“We’re not in the club anymore. Let’s use our normal voice now.”
“Right!” He says enthusiastically. “Hey! Did you just call me Bry?”
“Yes.”
“Cool!”
“You earned it,” I say downshifting.
Two beers and a jello shot…he’s so lit up.
He continues talking non-stop about the band, the music and the bar. Some skank tried to hit on him and he got so embarrassed that I had to step in to get rid of her.
I pull into the parking lot, pull up the parking brake and turn off the ignition.
“Why’d you stop?” He slurs.
“We’re home.”
“Oh. Already?” He says incredulously.
“You were talking the whole way,” I laugh, opening my car door.
“I’m not usually like this,” he says, getting out of the car.
“I know.”
We meet at the front of my car and he reaches out to take my hand. It’s such a simple gesture and I’m sure that it means something different to him than it does to me.
As we stand outside of his apartment, he looks at my face and says, “I’m not tired.”
“Um…ok?” I respond.
“Are you going to sleep?” He asks.
“Nah. I’m too wired.”
“So, you’re staying up then?”
“Yeah, so…?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Is this twenty questions?” I nudge him with my shoulder. “I’m just kidding. I want to finish a sketch that I was working on earlier.”
“Can I watch?” He asks.
“Only as long as you don’t yammer all night,” I roll my eyes and lead him to my place.
He lets go of my hand so that I can open the door. Once inside, I drop my keys & ID on the kitchen counter, “I’m going to go change. Help yourself to whatever you can find in the fridge to drink.”
I began taking off my suspenders and bend over to unlace my boots. He hasn’t said anything, so I look up to make sure that he’s ok. He’s watching me.
“Hey,” I snap my fingers twice, “Are you still with me?” I bend over and take off one of my boots.
A blush appears on his face. “Yeah I am.” Then he walks to the kitchen & and opens the fridge. “You have beer?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I have one?” He asks.
“Yes, but only if you eat too.”
He laughs, “Yes, Mom. What do you have to eat?”
“Why don’t you make up some nachos?” I say removing my second boot.
He watches as I removed my suspenders completely from my skirt. Apparently, he is very distractible. “I’ll be right back. Nachos?”
“Yeah I’m on it,” he turns away quickly.
A few minutes later, I come back in the kitchen as he is assembling the nachos.
I noticed that he’s at the stove and it looks like he’s cooking something. “Are you cooking something?” I ask rolling up the sleeves on my hockey jersey.
He looks up and laughs, “Nice pj’s.”
“What of it?”
I’m wearing my hockey jersey top and pj bottoms with little coffee mugs on them and ankle socks. My hair is pulled back into a messy not. “Don’t tell anybody that you saw me like this, I have my reputation to uphold.”
He reaches over to take a pan off of the stove.
“What are you cooking?? I lean over his shoulder as he turns his head over and our faces are inches apart; we stare into each other’s eyes for a moment until his gaze flickers down to my lips, then I take a step back.
“What?” he asks as if coming out of a trance.
“Um, I was just wondering what you are cooking on the stove.”
“Oh, ground beef for the nachos. And you didn’t have any sour cream, so I ran home and got some.”
“It’s awfully convenient with you living right next door,” I smile and snag a piece of ground beef out of the skillet.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it.”
He says this is a statement as he’s draining the grease out of the pan and then spooning the beef on top of the nachos.
I reach up into the cabinet & and pull out the salsa.
“Is this okay?”
He nods and pours to nacho cheese all over the chips, beef and lettuce; I spoon salsa over that and he spoons sour cream on the top.
“TV?” I ask.
“I thought you had to sketch?” He asks, picking up nacho plate.
“I do, but I’m hungry and this looks awesome.” I pick up his beer and grab one out of the fridge for me.
I sit on the floor in front of my couch facing the TV, so he does the same, placing the nachos on the floor between us. I hand him his beer and take a swig of mine.
“Thanks.” He says giving me a genuine smile, then squinting to look at my eyes. “Hey, are your eyes brown?”
“Yeah, this is me,” I point to my eyes.
“Pretty,” he says, a blush comes to his face.
“Thanks, Bry,” I smile back at him.
We stare at each other for a moment until I finally look away, grabbing a nacho and reaching for the remote. I flipped through channels and we make rude comments and some small talk about TV shows and movies. It turns out that we both love the Bourne movies, but he hasn’t seen the last one yet-even though it’s been out for a couple of years.
“Stacey didn’t want to see it.”
“And you couldn’t watch it by yourself?’
“Every time I wanted to see it, she’d make plans for us. Then I just kind of forgot about it,” he shrugs.
We both dig into the nachos at the same time. As our fingers brushed, I glance up and he’s blushing. I grab a nacho and shove it into my mouth, “These are really good Bry.”
“Thanks.”
- Writer
