Short story: An Ode to Who? - Jeffcode

#7: Truth Be Told

One of the popular girls in school is having a party this weekend. Basically, everyone is invited

The whole school is invited more or less. It's a house party in something that seems to be a beach house. As Creamy is also invited, we prepare together, her dressing me in clothes Mum would never allow me to wear if she and Dad were home that weekend.

The dress code is Y2K and so my sister ran to find mine and her outfits. They were arguably matching. Either way, I am handed a cropped Jean jacket, a white (longer) cropped t-shirt that just passed my belly button, baggy jeans with angel wings on the back, and a very blingy belt.

At first, I do freak out but, as Creamy talks me into it, I finally ease into it, allowing her to do my make-up and hair eventually.

Partly why I love Creamy, she always encourages me to do the right thing that is better if not best for me, and always in the best interest of my “character development” as she called it. But never irresponsable.

Fast forward to the party 2 hours later and I have already lost my friends in the ruckus and, after promising to Creamy and preaching to myself not to do so, I find myself rather drunk. I have been tipsy before but I think I drank too much this time

My vision is blurry in hyper-realism. Everyone's faces aren't distinctive yet crystal clear and I can hear everything yet I'm unable to understand a word that is coming out of anyone's mouth when talking to me.

Daydreaming in a drunken daze and simply wanting to get away from the noise, I find myself wandering into one of the open guest rooms in the house. It's all silence except for the sound of the waves crashing against the beach shore and the oceanic breeze coming through the open balcony windows. There is a faint humming of a very distinct voice. The booming music outside soon is filtered out. And there sits Jeff.

Naturally, I walk towards the sound, wanting to hear it more in compensation for the headache caused by the booming racket of the party below. At some point, the humming stops and Jeff turns around. He's sitting at a bench that seems to have been placed at its position, right in front of the balcony windows, gazing out of it.

"Barcode." He mumbles, putting down the cup in his hand.

I reply, greeting him in some way shape, or form. He stands up abruptly, approaching me with clearly worried arms held out at me, supposedly because I seemed ⅚ drink to be standing on my own two feet. Nevertheless, I insist I am fine, lightly brushing his supportive hands away from my arms and shoulders.

"Take a seat, you drank way too much."

I promise him I haven't. Him probably not considering my word at even the slightest. Who would though?

Once we are both sat down, Jeff begins talking to me... he asks questions about me, Creamy, my friends, and my family. He seemed to care, I feel.

The drunken overload of joy I felt at the simple thought made me giggle giddily in the middle of our miniature questionnaires, falling about into the process.

In the struggle and effort to prevent me from knocking my head in half on the edge of a bedside dresser, Jeff trips and loses balance, resulting in him falling right on top of me.

There was stillness and silence at that moment,  which that same unfamiliar butterfly-ish feeling seemed to fill my stomach up to my cheeks, once more.

"Jeff... I - hick- have a secret." I whisper after an oddly long silence "Please....don't tell - hick- Jeff, Okay?"

Jeff is barely off me yet seems to simply stare down at me. I can feel his breath on my face tickling my tingly lips, yet my eyes are too close to his face to see his.

He doesn't answer - and yet, still - I proceed to speak all my truths to the last person I'd wish to even mention to them.

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