Save Me-Lex cont
1981 Words
I get about a foot away and give a small salute and turn around to walk away in the opposite direction of where they’re headed.
Before I get too far away, I hear Becker say, “Damn, Mr. Avery, she’s got a nice ass.”
“Becker, we don’t talk like that in school. And where did you hear that?”
“Mr. Avery, I’m fourteen, not four. And I heard my Dad say that at Hooters the other day. Those waitresses are hot.”
“Becker, you are something else.”
I can hear the smile in Bryan’s voice. I laugh and put my ear buds in for the rest of my walk.
~~~
I’ve just finished blow drying my hair after dying it to blue, when I hear the doorbell and a knock. That’s weird, I’m not expecting anyone and everyone I know is getting ready for the show. I pad over to the door and open it to find Avery, my sexy neighbor.
“Hey neighbor,” I say with a smile.
His smile freezes on his face, then turns to confusion. “Didn’t you have red hair earlier?”
“Yeah?” I shrug.
“Oh,” he says, clearly not knowing what to say.
We stand there awkwardly for a moment.
“So Avery, what brings you over to my neck of the woods?”
“Oh, um, I wanted to, um apologize for Becker this morning and to thank you for the picture.”
“It’s ok. He seems like a nice kid,” I pause, “Did you want to come in? I’ve got to put my shoes on.”
For some reason, his gaze drops down to my feet and then slowly up my body to my face. When he looks into my eyes, I can see a blush forming on his cheeks.
“You ok?” I raise my eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, fine,” he says, but looks totally embarrassed.
I open the door wider and gesture inside. He steps in and I take in his appearance. He’s wearing jeans. I was right; he does have a perfect ass. He also has on a Nike t-shirt with Nike sneakers. I bet he coordinates everything.
Hell, I bet his girlfriend dresses him.
I shut the door and walk over to the couch to where my black and purple Docs are. He looks at the couch and then to the large comfy chair across from it. He probably guesses that it’s safer to sit there, than next to me on the couch. He takes a seat, sitting on the edge on the cushion. I smile at that. I begin pulling my boots on.
“Going out?” he asks.
“Sure. My friends are in a band and they are playing tonight. I always try to go when they’re in town.”
“But it’s a Thursday night?”
I can hear the frown in his voice.
I pause lacing my boot and look up, “Why yes, it is Thursday and tomorrow is Friday. So???”
“What about getting up early for work?”
I smirk. It’s obvious that he has no idea what I do for a living.
“Well, I’m a bit of a night owl. But yes, I do get up early for work, sometimes. Or I go for an early run.”
I can draw anytime or anywhere the mood strikes. I could never try and map out a specific time, too much pressure.
I notice him glance around my place.
“What?” I say standing up, straightening out my plaid skirt and adjusting my suspenders.
“It’s really clean.”
“Pardon?”
“Your apartment. It’s really clean.”
I laugh out loud. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Did you think that I live like a pig?”
“No. I guess not. It’s just you don’t look conventional. I didn’t know what to expect,” he shrugs.
“Oh my God,” I snort my laughter. “You are too f*****g much,” I say.
I notice that he winces when I swear, which makes me laugh harder.
When I stop laughing, I notice that he has a sheepish smile on his face and he’s standing up with his hands in his pockets.
“So, I should go then, if you’re busy.”
I just got an idea.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?”
“Going home to watch the game.”
“What game?”
“Cavs.”
“Ugh, basketball…” I roll my eyes.
“Figures. A girl who doesn’t like sports,” he says, running his hand through his hair.
“I resent that,” I put my hands on my hips. “I LOVE hockey. Wayne Gretzky is a f*****g God. I dig some baseball and soccer. Football is ok. I’ll watch a few games here and there, but I would never go sit on the bleachers for one.” I shiver at the thought of crazed fans at any football game.
“You like Hockey?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I just don’t know any girls that like…violence.”
“Oh I love me some hockey. I have season tickets,” I say proudly.
“I’ve only been to one game this year.”
“I’ll take you. Unless you think that your girlfriend would get jealous,” I roll my eyes.
“How do you know that I have a girlfriend?” He folds his arms across his chest.
“Oh, I’ve seen her a few times. Blonde hair, about ye high,” I raise my hand above my head. “Looks like Barbie?”
He smiles, but quickly composes his face, “Stacey. Her name is Stacey.”
“Figures,” I roll my eyes. “So, want to come see my friend’s band?”
“Now?” he says, unfolding his arms.
“No genius, tomorrow morning, when the bar is closed. Yes, now.” I roll my eyes again.
“You do that a lot,” he says.
“What?”
“Wiggle your eyes around. You have a tic?”
I laugh, “Tourette’s maybe. I can’t stop swearing.”
He smiles, “I noticed.”
“Does that bother you?” I smirk.
“My friends swear.”
“Probably only when they’re watching a game and their favorite team f***s up a play, right?”
He winces again.
“Avery,”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck.”
He winces again.
“Did you know that every time I say ‘f**k’, you wince?”
“No I don’t,” he says with a bit of a pout.
“f**k, f**k, f**k, and fuck.”
He frowns. “Are you finished?” he asks.
“f**k no.”
He winces again. I laugh.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
I walk over to my kitchen counter and scoop up my ID, money and keys.
I look over at him, “Live a little.”
He looks torn, like he wants to come but doesn’t know if he should.
“I promise that you won’t get hepatitis or any other type of diseases.”
He laughs and says, “Ok, I need to grab my wallet and keys.”
I follow him out of my apartment, making sure to lock my door and then down to his apartment and inside.
“Hmmm…” I say when I step inside.
“What?” he grabs his keys and puts them in his pocket.
“It should be pristine.” I notice a newspaper on the coffee table and a soda can on it as well. “Would Stacey approve?” I point to the mess.
“We live apart,” he rolls his eyes.
“Yes, I’m aware. But still, does she not come over?”
“I just saw her at dinner. She won’t come over tonight anyhow.”
“Oh?”
“Her shows are on,” he rolls his eyes.
“Hmm…you must have a tic too,” I laugh at him.
He laughs and reaches for his wallet.
“Oh, just take your ID and money for a cover charge and a drink.”
“I don’t really drink,” he says.
“I’m driving. You can have a beer,” I smile.
“I, um, don’t drink.”
“Ever? Like tee-total?”
“Oh, no… and it’s not a religious thing. I’ve just only ever had a glass of wine or champagne. I just don’t really drink.”
“You watch sports and don’t drink?” I say incredulously. Then spy him getting ready to put his wallet in his pocket. “Leave the wallet here.”
He pulls out his ID and $20 and sticks them in his back pocket.
“Front pocket, Avery. We’re going to a bar.”
He gives me a glare but does as I’ve suggested and we leave the apartment, making sure that his door is locked.
“Will your girlfriend be upset that you’re not home to call and wish her a goodnight?”
“No. Her shows are on; we never talk once they start.”
Wow, they must have a really boring life.
“Well, I’ll have to keep you entertained then. Let’s go!” I link my arm to his and we head out to my Mini.
“This is you?” he says. ‘Of course it is,” he palms his forehead. “Makes total sense now.”
“You don’t like my car?” I say incredulously.
“No it’s cool. Stacey hates it though.”
“Yeah, she seems to be more of Honda Civic type person,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Um…because I’ve seen her drive a Honda Civic?” I roll my eyes.
We get in and drive up to High Street in downtown Columbus to Pete’s Place. I glance at my clock in the car.
“The doors opened about 15 minutes ago but the band won’t be on until 9pm. Want some food?” I ask him.
“Like what?”
“I’m kinda craving Mexican,” I say.
He smiles. “You like Mexican?”
“Avery…there are things that I should tell you now about myself.”
He looks concerned. “Ok.”
“I love food. I eat all of the f*****g time. I hate seafood though. Don’t ever suggest it; I will vomit on you if you do. Second, I say what I feel and what I want. Right now, I want Mexican. Third, I’m not like other girls and I’m especially not like your Stacey. I want us to be friends but I’m not living in her shadow.”
His eyebrows shoot up at that.
“Capisce?” I ask.
“I got it,” he nods. “And for the record, I would never compare you two.”
“But you are, Avery,” I say, looking into his eyes, “You are.”
“Why do you call me Avery?”
“What does she call you?”
“Bryan.”
“Not Bry?”
“No,” he snorts. “Definitely not Bry.”
“I’ll call you Avery. I like it,” I smile at him. “So…you good with Mexican?” I ask, downshifting.
“Yeah.”
I park at the bar and we walk down to the restaurant. There’s a small line and we get in it.
“Eat outside?” I ask.
He looks around.
“I seriously doubt anyone from your crowd will be here,” I roll my eyes.
He smiles sheepishly.
“How does it feel?”
“What?” he asks.
“Breaking your rules.”
He smiles his response to me.
- Writer
