Chapter 12 #2
He throws himself onto the couch, sprawling along the length with his head in my lap, then takes my glass out of my hand and knocks back the contents in one go, his neck craned at an awkward angle to avoid spilling or choking.
“Hey,” I protest, though mostly it’s because it’s a sin to treat good bourbon like that. He hands me back the glass.
“I couldn’t reach mine,” he explains with a faux innocent smile. There’s something different about him—he seems… relaxed?
As if he can hear my thoughts, he gives a contented moan and stretches. “That was amazing.”
“It really was,” I agree. “Though I feel like I didn’t pull my weight.”
“Oh, you totally did. Although next time we’ll sixty-nine or something.
But that was just what I needed.” He sits up and looks me in the eye.
“There’s not much in my life I’ve had control over.
Since I came here, it’s been better, but still…
But this, this was perfect. It’s good to know I can trust you to let me be in charge. Thank you.”
I feel guilty about the pride that bursts in my chest, because really, all I did was get a fucking awesome blowjob. But if it gave him what he needed, I’m not going to be the asshole who argues about it. “Anything you need.”
We smile at each other, and then he grabs his glass off the table with one hand and passes me the bottle with the other.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“No, but see… see… seeeeeeeeeeeee. Wow, that’s a great word! Why have I never appreesated it afore?” Josh seems delighted by his new discovery.
I squint, trying to see his face clearly. It’s hard. There’s some kind of weird blurry fog distorting my vision. A tiny voice at the back of my mind tells me it’s because I’m drunk, but I ignore it. Drunk people aren’t capable of thinking as clearly as I am right now.
“Seeeeeeeee,” I repeat, trying it out for myself. “Wow, it is a great word!”
“We should make it the word of the day.” He raises his voice from where he’s lying half under the coffee table. “I heretoforeby declare the word of the day to be… what was it again?”
“What was what?”
“The word! What was the word?”
“Ohhhh. The word. It was… a good word. See! It’s see.” I smile smugly. Hah! I can’t possibly be drunk.
“See is declarated to be the word! And we shall… say it. A lot. See!”
“See!” I echo cheerfully.
“Anyhoodles, what was I saying?”
“Not saying, seeing.” He must be much more drunker than me.
“My mapogolies. Ampogolies. Ma-pog-logies. Why is that word wrong?”
“Is it wrong, though? Is it? Maybe all the words are right and we’re the ones who’re wrong.” I tip my head back to contemplate the ceiling, and the room spins. “Whoa. Are you okay?”
“Maybe? It’s hard to know, y’know? Is anyone really okay?”
Wow, he’s so deep. “You’re so deep. I just want to plunder how deep you are.” I squint. Wait. “I mean I want to pillage your depths.”
“Thank you,” he says gravely. “I’ve never been pillaged before. I think I was plundered once, though? It was at Burger King.”
“I like Burger King. Can I tell you a secret? I like McDonald’s.”
His eyes widen. “Me too! Oh my god, we’re like… twins!”
I scrunch up my face. “I don’t wanna be your twin. That would make the things we’ve done icky.”
He heaves a big sigh. “Yeah. Twincest is not as good as McDonald’s. So it’s official… we’re not twins.”
“Deal!” My attention is caught by what’s happening on the screen. “Oh, this is the best part!”
Josh sits up abruptly and smacks his head on the coffee table. “Owww!”
“Dude, you need to ask it nicely to move! Say you’re sorry.”
He wriggles out from underneath, then pats the table.
“Sorry, friend.” Hauling himself up onto the couch beside me, he says, “See, this is the thing about this movie. People watch it and they don’t understand it.
They think it’s just fun, and it is. It is fun.
But it’s also got more. It’s… it’s… it’s nuanced.
Nuuwwannnced. There are nuances. And people don’t get those.
They don’t get how subtle and nuanced this movie is. ”
I nod, fascinated, while on the screen Ricky Bobby tells his father that he’s lived his whole life based on the principle “if you ain’t first, you’re last.”
“I get it. I get the new-antsing,” I tell him. That doesn’t sound right somehow, but it’s probably because Josh is drunk.
Sometime later, we both must fall asleep, because I wake in the soft glow of dawn with a sore neck and Josh’s head in my lap. And a pounding headache.
The groan that’s ripped from my throat hurts my head even more. Josh whimpers.
“Why are you being loud?” he whispers.
“Coffee. Is there coffee?” I beg.
“Shhh. Loud.”
Slowly, I turn my head to look over at the kitchenette. There is no coffee machine. Please let Josh be the type to use a french press. Please.
Somehow, I don’t think I’m that lucky.
Swallowing down bile, I force my weak and achy muscles to work and ease Josh’s head off me as I heave myself to my feet… and sway. Please don’t fall. I don’t think I could manage to pick myself up again.
Thankfully, I don’t fall, and with slow, shuffling steps, I drag myself over to the kitchen and begin checking cabinets.
There is no french press.
There is no coffee.
There is no cola in the fridge.
Or chocolate.
No caffeine. At all.
A sound that might be a sob bursts from me.
“Whyyyyyy are you loud?” Josh moans from the couch.
Ignoring him, I find a glass, fill it with water, and then help myself to the ibuprofen in one of the cabinets. Next stop: bathroom.
When I come out after relieving myself and splashing a lot of cold water on my face, Josh has hauled himself to a sitting position and has his head buried in his hands. I get him some water and ibuprofen, and he manages a scratchy, “Thanks.”
Collapsing on the couch beside him, I stare blankly at the TV. The screen is dark, but I think it’s still on? So we must have passed out while we were watching…
It floods back to me. Did… did I actually agree that Talladega Nights is a meaningful movie?
Wait.
Did Josh actually mean it? Because that’s terrifying.
“Um…”
“What?” he mutters.
“Do you remember last night?”
His head turns in slow increments until he’s looking at me. “Maybe? I remember sucking you off. I was sober then. I don’t regret it. We should do it again sometime. Did you do something weird to me after I passed out?” He wriggles his body. “I don’t feel like you did.”
“I’d be offended by that if I had the energy. No. And yes, we should do it again sometime. Let’s talk about it when thinking doesn’t hurt.”
“Agreed. What am I trying to remember then?”
“We watched Talladega Nights,” I prompt.
He blinks. “Yeah? So? Did—” His eyes widen. “Oh my god. Please tell me I didn’t say ‘nuanced’ fifty times.”
I close one eye. “Fifty sounds about right.”
“I am such an idiot. I should never be allowed to watch that movie drunk. Last time, I got on eBay and tried to buy a kids’ bike to deliver pizzas with because that seemed like such a good idea.”
He… wow.
“Well, this wasn’t as bad as that. Unless you really do think it’s a subtle movie.
” Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it as much as the next guy, but I don’t think I could take him seriously if he believes all that.
And I really want to—take things seriously with him.
You know, now that we’re friends. Who give each other blowjobs.
And share each other’s hopes and dreams.
He gives me a disbelieving look. “It’s pure comic relief and about as subtle as the sledgehammer pounding inside my skull. I need coffee.”
“You don’t have any,” I tell him helpfully. “What time is it? Would someone be in the kitchen yet?”
We both squint at the wall clock. It’s just before six.
“No,” he groans. “The breakfast shift doesn’t get here until six thirty. Do you know how to use the machine downstairs?”
I snort, then wince and wish I hadn’t. That bastard vibrated right through my brain. “I don’t even know how to turn it on. What are the chances that the thermos in the parlor still has something in it?” It’d be stone cold, but worth it.
He shakes his head. “Low. The guests we have now like to stay up late talking.” Taking a deep breath, he drags himself off the couch. “Let’s shower. That might help. If nothing else, by the time we’re done, someone who knows how the coffee machine works will be downstairs.”
“You have good plans.” And I can maybe have a catnap while he showers first.
He stares down at me. “Are you going to make me pull you up? Because I didn’t do great in high school physics, but I know you’re twice my size and it’s not likely I can do it.”
I blink at him a few times while his meaning sinks in, then scramble to my feet, ignoring the way that makes my stomach lurch. I’d be an idiot to pass up a joint shower. And despite all the evidence to the contrary right now, I’m no idiot.
“Lead the way.”