4. Lolly
four
Lolly
“Get up,” Jay says as a wad of paper hits me square in the fucking face.
“Eat shit.”
“That party is tonight and we agreed it would be good for us to socialize, remember?” He says. “You promised me we’d start senior year off with a bang,” he adds.
“That wasn’t me, that was Patricia.”
“Ass.”
I laugh, “I remember. I’m still down.”
“Fuck yes,” Jay says, spinning in his gaming chair he occasionally uses for schoolwork. “We’re getting an Uber because I plan on getting fuckered up.”
I laugh at his giant ass in that tiny chair, biceps bulging through his too-tight shirt.
“You putting the mohawk up for the party?” I ask. “It hasn’t been out to play in a while,” I add, as I pick off the last of this week’s nail polish before digging through my cosmetic bag for more. I’m feeling black with glitter. It’s giving, I’m hot but probably don’t want to talk to you.
“You know what? You’re right. Mohawks need love too,” he says as he runs his hands through his hair in reverence.
“You might love that haircut more than you love your biceps.”
“You bet your ass I do.”