Biker's Virgin

He rolled his eyes. “Well?”

“No, I don’t have any beer,” I said. “I do have some bourbon though.”

“That’ll work,” he nodded. “Who were you talking to?”

“A friend.”

“Are you being cryptic for a reason?”

“I’m impressed you know that word.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked.

“Here’s your bourbon,” I said, handing him a shallow glass.

“It was Megan, wasn’t it?” Brent asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I paused for a second. “Yeah…”

“You guys really hit it off at my party, huh?” I couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about my friendship with his sister.

“I guess so.” I nodded. “And, just so you know, we’re strictly friends.”

“Sure?” Brent asked, looking dubious.

“Completely,” I said. “We get along; we can talk to each other…we’re friends. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say,” he said. “So what are we doing?”

“Huh?”

“What are we doing now?” he asked.

“You want to do something now?” I asked, glancing at the time.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“Listen, man; I have an early shift tomorrow. I should already be in bed.”

“It’s ten fucking thirty.”

“And, my shift starts at four fucking a.m.,” I shot back. “What do you want me to do?”

“Play hooky.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not in ninth grade,” I said. “I have a real job, and it requires commitment. I can’t just call in sick because I want to go party with a buddy the night before.”

I saw Brent’s eyes narrow as he got off the sofa and walked around the center table. “What happened to you, man? You used to be fun…you used to be young.”

I rolled my eyes. “You need to grow up.”

“And you need to grow down.”

“I… What the fuck does that even mean?” I demanded.