Drunk or Sober

Bury Me Till I Confess (To Driving Intoxicated)

SATURDAY 3/20

We were sitting in the car, parked near Harleigh's driveway, windows rolled down and radio blasting Fallout Boy, four cartons of eggs and five rolls of toilet sitting in a plastic bag in the backseat. We were stalling, but it didn't really matter whether we fell through with our mischievous plan.

Ramona loved me.

"Are we going to do it?"

I winked at her. "You want to do it?"

"Oh my god." She punched my shoulder, and said in between laughter, "I'm about to throw eggs at you!"

I jokingly jumped back and shielded my face. "Please! Not the face! Lactose and tolerant!"

"You're lying!" We both started cracking up, no pun intended.

She leaned in closer and smiled, staring at my lips.

She suddenly jumped up. "This song! Raise it up!"

She turned the volume up herself and began singing along to some lovey-dovey generic pop song by Ed Sheeran, followed by a full-out interpretive hand dance.

"Lay me into your loving arms!" She wrapped her arms around herself.

I opened the car door.

She shouted over the catchy chorus, "Wes, I'll change the song if you don't like it!"

Smiling, I walked over to her car door and opened it, grabbing her hand and leading her out.

"Let's dance. Now I don't really applaud your choice of that," I gestured to the car radio, "but it'll do."

"Wait!" She let go and ran back into the car. "Do you have a charger or a cord or something?"

I brushed my hair back and stood in front of the car. "Should be one in the glove compartment."

"I can't even see! Wait- got it!"

I couldn't really see what she was but I saw her gesturing to the radio and turning up the volume.

"I can move mountains, I can work a miracle, work a miracle! Keep you like an oath, may nothing but death do us part!" She flipped her hair and danced over back to me.

It was almost impossible to hear let alone speak over Uma Therman. "I knew there was more to you than those haunting, overplayed songs!"

I took her hand and she twirled, laughing/singing along the entire time.

We danced in the middle of the street; God knows what freaking time it was.

Once the song was over and another replaced it, we sat on the head of my car instead, and looked at the sky like we were the leads in some cliché romantic comedy.

She laid her head down in my lap, and I kissed her.

"Hello?"

Our lips hastily came undone; Ramona rushed upright.

I had to squint to see who it was, but the voice was familiar either way.

It was Harleigh, probably confused by the deafeningly loud-yet-genius lyrics and irresistible beat of Favorite Record, standing in front of the door on her porch.

I was guessing and possibly hoping she couldn't see us from where she stood, but just in case, I jumped off the car and hurried to the front seat, grabbing Ramona and helping her off the car in the process.