He wants to hurry so he can get laid?
So he can bang my sister. How do I respond to that? “You’re pushing your luck, man.”
“Dude. I can’t help it if my girlfriend is horny as fuck and likes sex, okay?”
“Jesus Christ, McGrath. What the hell did I tell you about TMI?”
“Can’t help you with that. At some point you’re going to have to get over it, bro.”
Then, coming from seemingly out of nowhere, a pubescent voice behind us asks, “Hey Coach, what does horny mean?”
Slowly, and with dread - as if facing a guillotine – Weston and I both turn.
Weston clears his throat. “Um, gee… Hey Mitchell. Done with your shower so, um, soon?” He’s embarrassed and red faced: serves him right.
“Yes.” Mitchell Decker squints at us, his tiny, beady brown eyes magnified by his thick glasses, boring into us both. “What does it mean?”
I fold my arms across my chest and glare at Weston, asking sarcastically, “Yeah Coach McGrath, what does it mean?”
Weston fidgets. “It means girls who, uh… like to, uh… kiss. You probably shouldn’t repeat that word though because girls don’t like it.”
“But your girlfriend likes it though?”
“Kissing? Oh yeah she does…” His voice is dripping with innuendo.
“Weston,” I warn.
“Why are you getting all mad at Coach McGrath? Are you sore because you don’t have a girlfriend and all the guys think you’re gay?”
“No Mitchell,” I grind out. “I’m mad because Coach is kissing my sister and he won’t clam up about it.”
Mitchell’s eyes get as wide as saucers, and he looks horrified. “Ewww, you’re kissing his sister? If one of these guys was dating one of my sisters, I’d probably punch him in the face.”
I pat Mitchell – my new favorite player – on the back. “You’re a good man, Mitchell Decker. I knew there was something about you that I liked…”
Cecelia
It isn’t long after I’ve changed into my favorite pajamas, and parked my ass on the sofa, that my phone chimes.
Grabbing my cell and a bag of Skinny Pop, my thumb unlocks the screen at the same time my other hand digs into the popcorn bag for a handful.
I shove it in my mouth, chewing, and tap open my new messages.
Matthew: What’s up.
I look down at my pajamas and sock footed feet, wincing.
Me: You know. The usual Friday night stuff.
Even I roll my eyes at that, and shove another fistful of popcorn into my mouth. Shit this stuff is addicting…
Matthew: Are you lying?
Well this is awkward…
Not sure which approach to take – do I lie, or tell the truth? I hesitate briefly before replying: Yes. I’m lying. Why?
Matthew: So you must be doing the same thing I’m doing. Which is nothing.
Me: Pret-ty. Much.
Matthew: So, wanna do nothing together?
I shit you not – I stare at my phone like it’s about to combust into a million little pieces and I’m not sure what to do with it. There might even be an appalled look on my face.
Do I want to hang out with him? Yes.
On the other hand… Hell-to-the-no.
For several reasons (and obviously I’m about to tell you why):
I look like crap. And if there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s him seeing me (yet again) in this state of appearance. Granted, he did see me looking amazing on my date, but only after seeing me countless other times…. not so amazing.
Now that I’ve got them on, these pajamas are pretty damn comfortable.
No good will come of this. I mean - we just can’t seem to behave ourselves when we’re together, can we?
Seeing him will make me like him. Even more.
Me: I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…
Matthew: Why not? You’re home, I’m home. It’s Friday night.
Me: True…
Then I add: I’m comfy and don’t want to get dressed…
Matthew: What are you wearing?
Me, glancing down at my pajamas: old yoga pants, a giant sweatshirt, fuzzy socks… mud mask
Matthew: Wow. You sure know how to turn a guy off.
Me: ((Shrug)) Honesty is the best policy???
Matthew: Er, not always. A mud mask? Seriously?
Me: How do you think I get my skin to look so dewy? Mother Nature? ((SNORT))
Matthew: I cannot believe you just snorted via text.
Me: Well, it wouldn’t be the first time…
Matthew: YOU DON’T SAY!!!?
Me: Wow. I’m sensing some sarcasm…
Matthew: Well that’s good, because I was laying it on pretty thick
Me: I shrug and snort IRL, so why not in a text message? Just keeping it real.
Matthew: …I will never understand females...
Me: ((Crickets))
Matthew: STOP DOING THAT!
Me: ((Shrug)) Stop doing what?
Matthew: Putting shit in parentheses like we’re having an actual conversation!!!
Me: Hmmmmm ((scratches chin)). Why do you think this bothers you so much?
Matthew: What are you, a psych major?
Me: First of all, I’m working on my masters. Quit confusing me for an undergrad - I already HAVE a degree in Economics smart ass.
Matthew: Sorry. I get confused because you live with my KID sister…