Defile Me

fourteen: draw four

THE TEMPERATURE of the room intensified with my eye locked on the deck and the trickle of sweat rolling down my forehead didn't help the situation any better.

I removed it with a swipe of my sleeve and slammed the card down, drawing out groans from the two participants.

"I told you to put a draw four down, you dumbass!" Mike reclined back onto the couch, scolding Carter.

I laughed at the two going back and forth over something so foolish like a game of UNO.

"This shit is rigged, I'm not playing anymore." Carter stood from his seat, which happened to be a pillow that was set on the floor because he was not getting another stain on my couch.

Last week he spilled grape juice on my couch and hadn't even bothered to inform me.

I tidied up the deck of cards, the empty beers, and the cups. "You guys are slugs, pick up after yourself."

Ever since I got my loft a few months ago, these guys have been coming over here like every other day.

I'm not sure if I found it invading or oddly comforting..

"C'mon, every time you're at my place you always trash it up and then I'm the one getting in trouble by my mom."

"Carter.. your place is a mess when I get there, if anything, I help clean it."

Mike released a small laugh, assisting me in picking up the trash and dirty dishes they had laid out throughout the remainder of the night.

"You know, you should be glad we come over and mess your place up, if not, then it'd be covered in spiderwebs."

Mike and I spared a quick glance at each other before returning to cleaning. "Yeah.. good interpretation buddy, just pick up some stuff."

He hummed, slowly walking around and picking up small things like candy wrappers and such until he came to a halt, his lips twisting into a smile, amusement written all over his face. "What's this?"

I now had my back turned to him, and just hummed to him, not bothering to look and see what he had. "I don't know."

I had got a small scare from how long he was taking to reply — he never stays quiet — but when I turned to look at him, I almost dropped the Walmart bag filled with trash.

"Ooh.. is this an invitation?" He inspected it, covering almost every aspect of the outside; the stamp, the envelope, the calligraphy, even the small little stain I had accidentally got on it some time earlier. "Did we get invited to something?"

"No I did," After walking over to him, almost what seemed like a rush, I practically snatched the envelope from his scrawny little hands, "and it's just trash."

"For something that's trash, you sure seemed eager to prevent him from throwing it away." Mike backed Carter up.

They backed each other's arguments like usual. It was either Carter backing Mike up or vice versa; it was like 1 against 1 — reason I say that is because they own half a mind, and together they'd own a single brain.

"It's some party."

"Whose party?"

A groan elicited from my throat, "some girl's. She's throwing it for her boyfriend."

"We should go. When it is?" He reached back out for the letter but I just pulled it back, out of arm's reach.

Mike nudged me, "Yeah, let's crash it."