Just You

Twenty Three

 Twenty Three

#Dylan

Nicko dropped Jake off at his place. He got off, giving me a full megawatt smile. Jake even asked me to stay with him, but I just could not keep lying to Nicko anymore because well, as far as he knew, I had to get home ASAP to bring Robbie the milk.

So, I promised to call him as soon as I got the chance - or rather, as soon as I can sneak a quick phone call - since Mom all of a sudden decided to give me a phone call grounding since she found out the reason behind the sudden increase in the telephone bill, my almost nightly conversations with Jake.

Now, it was just Nicko and me in the car, the scenario I have always dreaded.

I made small conversation, asking him about the most random things. He told me about soccer, nothing I haven't heard from Jake, but I pretended to be really interested. I really had nothing to say to him. My life revolved around a small circle.

Soon enough, we reached my house. I immediately got out, thanking him, and realized that Kyle had borrowed my keys and still had not returned them. I would have to ring the bell, then. 

"Is everything alright?" Nicko asked, startling me. He had gotten out of his car, and was walking towards me.

"Yes," I answered, pressing the doorbell.

Why couldn't he take the hint? The more time he spends here, the more likely I'll get caught in the middle of a lie. I just wanted him to get back into his car and finally, drive out of my street and my life.

Okay, so maybe not my life.

Yet.

Robbie opened the front door.

"Ever heard of keys?" he asked me rudely. I simply rolled my eyes at him, immune to his annoying little act.

This boy was so moody! One minute, he loves me, and the next thing I know he's trying to pick a fight with me. I could tell that today wasn't one of his best days, and I was abot to make it worse. 

"Here's your milk!"

I shoved the milk cartons at Robbie and he stared at me with a bewildered expression.

"Pretend like you're really excited about plain old milk," I hissed at him before Nicko could come within ear-shot, "Go to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass."

"No way! Mom can't even get me to drink milk!"

"Just do it! Just take a sip or something, I'll drink it later!" 

"You owe me fifty bucks!" he hissed right back, finally disappearing into the kitchen.

Wow! That was steep! But it was fine, since Kyle and I never really pay him in anything. He just likes calling debts when we ask him for a favor and he's in a foul mood. I don't know why he still thinks we'd actually pay him.

Nicko gave me a smile and stepped into our living room. I asked him to take a seat and he chose a seat that was uncomfortably close to me. Our knees were already touching. I couldn't move, wanting to be polite, and not wanting him to catch on to my discomfort at being around him. He'd just whine and pester me more about my opinion of him.

"So, Dylan, I've been endlessly trying to talk to you about Friday," Nicko told me. He wouldn't know how much I tried to avoid this conversation with him, "But I could never seem to get to tell you what I want to say. We always get interrupted, or you're always busy, or the timing is just simply wrong. I mean, I hardly ever get to talk to you. You know, I even tried to call you, but your phone seems to be always busy. I tried several times, but I couldn't get through."