Sight (Scomiche)

The Ride Back

"Miiiitch. Oh my God, get up. You slept later than I did."
That was my alarm clock that morning: Shawn's voice. I gave a questioning, tired groan in response.
He shoved me lightly. "Get uppp. It's already 11:15."
My eyes opened and faced the sunlight shining in through the translucent curtains. Shawn's figure was in front of it, complaining.
Was it really 11:15? I don't think I've slept that late in my whole life.
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, immediately wincing. My ass hurt.
I saw Shawn smirking a little, but as soon as I looked at him, it disappeared as if it was never there.
Thoughts flooded into my mind. Memories. I hurriedly jerked my head to glance behind me. Jackson was gone. He probably left early. Maybe Shawn didn't know... I prayed Shawn didn't know. I'd never live it down.
"You okay?" Shawn laughed.
I nodded, mutely. He was already dressed and packed. When did he get up?
Shawn shrugged. "Alright. Well, buddy, I'm just waiting on you. I'm ready to go whenever."
Once again, I nodded without words. I stood, apparently only in boxers, and limped to the bathroom. Hopefully Shawn didn't notice that either, but there was really no way he couldn't have. Each step I took reminded me of what had gone down last night.
Something was stinging my back, so I turned around and examined as best as I could through the mirror. Nail indents scattered my back-- not scratches. My mind was recalling every detail of the night before, and although it was blurred, I was sure of everything my brain was telling me. I'm not one to forget things when I'm drunk, unless it's a black out drunk.
Jackson gave me another sloppy kiss. He was the sober one. Why was he being so careless? The next time I caught his lips, I made it soft, neat, and growing with passion. He wasn't expecting it, but he liked it, and pressed his nails into the bare skin of my back.
Jackson tried to make it rough, but I wanted it gentle, so we landed somewhere in between. It didn't matter now; he was gone, and I'd never see him again.

We were on the road by twelve, as I had anticipated. Shawn did end up making me drive, but it was fine. I enjoyed driving well enough.
After about ten minutes of pure silence except for the mechanical sounds of the car, Shawn spoke.
"So, uh, you must've really enjoyed that Scott last night." The smirk in his voice was obvious.
Approaching a red light, I snapped my head towards him. Forcefully, I asked, "What?"
"Do you not remember? Odd," he stifled laughter, "because you were sure screaming his name last night."
My eyebrows furrowed and I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Once my thoughts had settled, the light turned green. I tapped the gas and said, as calmly as I could in the moment, "What the hell are you talking about?"
I shifted my eyes from his shimmering, mischievous, unbelievably green ones, to the road quite a few times before he answered.
"Do you not remember?"
I scoured my brain. I remembered everything about the last night... didn't I? "Remember what?" The tone was harsher than I had meant it, but just as demanding as I felt.
"You hooked up last night... with Scott..." Shawn sounded confused, like maybe he had made the mistake, or surprised I couldn't recount it.
"No. I didn't. I hooked up with some guy named Jackson." I paused, becoming defensive. "And how would you know what
I was 'screaming'. You weren't there."
Shawn chuckled. "Ah, my dear boy," he began, a mock of being proper, even putting a light English accent into it. "You see, I also hooked up last night, but it happened to be with a guy just down the hall. As I strolled down the corridor, I heard your unmistakable shrieks. Those squeals of pleasure sounded an awful lot like," he hesitated, considering whether he should say the next sentence, then decided to. He broke his fake accent, and transformed his voice into an exaggerated high pitch as if he were me. "'Scott'," he moaned. "Oh, Scott, yessss! Oh my god! Oh my god!'"
I shoved him, offended. "Shawn! Stop it!"
He burst out in loud laughter. "C'mon! That's pretty accurate."
"Shut up!" A blush was coloring my cheeks. "I wouldn't have said Scott. I don't even know a Sc--" I stopped my lie before it was completed. "Okay well I do. But I don't like him like that. He's a nice person. We hang out a lot, but it's merely for practice. I think about him all the time, but that doesn't mean anything. I mean, it could, but it doesn't. It doesn't. It doesn't," I tried to convince. "Just because I smile whenever he's around doesn't mean anything. And just becau--"
"Dude," Shawn interrupted.
I stopped short. "What."
"Bro."
"What?"
"Buddy."
"What?!"
When I glanced over, Shawn was smiling like a maniac. "You're in love."