Executive Engagement

Her face shows nothing but sheer confusion. I can’t say I have much more clarity on the whole ordeal myself.

“This girl just came up to me and decided to use my mouth for a game of tonsil hockey. I was caught off-guard. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to be rude!”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” she continues, a slight smirk on her face. “That’s fucking wild.”

Laura takes another sip of her drink. If I had to guess, she’s switched to Green Dinosaurs because the Sex on the Beach wasn’t enough liquor for her. Laura the Lush.

If there’s anything I know about Laura after years of partying with her, it’s that she likes to go from zero to hammered in no time flat. If there were some way to measure a record for most responsible to most reckless under the influence of alcohol, she’d win. Hands down.

I sigh.

“Hey. I think I’m gonna go out to the back and smoke,” I say to Laura. All of the commotion has me really itching for a cigarette. “Do you want to come out?”

She takes a long gulp of her drink, finishing it off. Damn, she’s fast.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

We make our way out to the back of the building to the smokers’ area. The cool air nips at our skin as we walk along the path to where the ashtrays are.

“Brrrr. I’m freezing!” Laura exclaims, hugging her shoulders. Her tiny clothes aren’t exactly protective from the climate.

“You should have brought your jacket,” I comment, lighting the end of my cigarette. I take a quick drag and blow out the smoke.

I place my cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and remove my jacket and place it around her shoulders. “There.”

“Thanks, Jer.”

I pick up my cigarette and take a long drag. As I turn to blow the smoke out in the opposite direction of Laura, I’m caught off guard by what’s practically in front of me—and cough it all out instead.

Laura

I pat Jeremy’s back as he coughs smoke, trying to expel it all from his lungs. My eyes are locked on his face, and my heart is beating hard and fast, trying to make sure he’s okay.

“Jeremy?” I call out. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He continues to cough and starts using his elbow to cover his mouth.

“Remember how I fucking told you to quit smoking? Shit like this is why,” I state, really laying it on thick with the mom-like lecture while he’s suffering.

Then I remember when Jer told me that the douchebag wasn’t right for me.

All that concern Jeremy had for me. I actually fought with him about how he felt, when in reality, I should have been thankful that he was so concerned.

Shit. He’s still coughing.

I’ve seriously had way too much alcohol to be the one to handle this, but I do my best to channel my inner survivalist.

I study him, holding his back and his chest, and I begin to take deep breaths in and out, trying to coax him into doing the same. It takes a good amount of pushing to even get him breathing. He’s just fucking coughing.

“Jeremy. You need to breathe. Come on, dude,” I insist.

Finally, he gets in a few short breaths. They slowly get deeper and more promising.

Within a few deep breaths, Jeremy’s lungs decide they’re ready to function again.

Phew.

Let it be known to the world that if survival was on me and if breathing couldn’t fix the problem, we’d be goners.