Virtually In Love With You

Want U Back

“So you like fun?”

“Yeah, you guys are great!”

I attempted to look modest and failed.

Claire apparently noticed and giggled. I smiled at it, because her giggle was adorable.

… did that sound weird? Because I meant manlyishly adorable.

“So Nate,” she began as we walked into McDonalds (keepin’ it classy, yo). “What are your thoughts on drunken duets?”

What was she asking? I mean, I like to think I’m a pretty open minded guy, but if this was some kinky crap, then I wasn’t sure.

“What are we getting at?”

“Karoke,” she explained at my confused and slightly disturbed expression.

 I sighed in relief. What had been running through my mind had involved handcuffs, microphone cords and leather… yeah, don’t ask.

“Yeah, okay. Not like I have a terrible voice to be embarassed by.”

She whacked my arm.

“Somebody’s got a big sense of their own importance.”

I’ve released three singles; what can I say?

“So you’re up for it?”

“Yeah.”

She kissed me (heheh).

“Okay. Pick me up at six.”

I nodded, since my brain was manfully fuzzy after our kiss.

I’m whipped.

**

“REMEMBER ALL THE THINGS THAT YOU AND I DID FIRST! AND NOW YOU’RE DOING THEM WITH HER! REMEMBER ALL THE THINGS THAT YOU AND I DID FIRST? UGH!”

“Nate?”

I spun around and my mouth dropped open.

“How long have you been there?”

Andrew snickered loudly. “Long enough.”

I lunged.

“This doesn’t leave this room, or else,” I hissed dangerously.

“Whoa, okay, okay. Chill out.”

I sent him a deadly look. I call it Nate’s Look Of Death, Agony and Horror.

Andrew calls it Nate’s Failed Attempt To Be Manly.

Okay, Andrew. Okay.

I went to take a shower.

I love showers. Seriously. If I could take a shower five times a day, I would. I spend my freaking life in a shower, dammit.

And Claire could join me. Heheh.

Andrew hated showers. I swear, that boy’s hair is a constant sheet o grease. This one time, Jack gave him a noogie and recoiled in disgust. It’s nasty.

I carefully combed my hair into tiny, complicated little swirls. My hair may look artfully messy, but time and devotion.

After it was perfect, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed out. I didn’t want to get dressed yet. Freedom swag.

Jack was passed out on the couch and Andrew was attempting to make his pathetic excuse for hair look acceptable. He was failing miserably.

“Hey,” he muttered as I strutted by.

“’Sup,” I replied, going into the kitchen and harvesting up some bread. I chucked some at Andrew. It stuck to his hair.

Ew.

I collapsed on the couch, making sure my towel was still secure. I didn’t need that much freedom.

“So guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re going out for karoke tonight.”

He nodded listlessly. “Okay.”

“We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Okay.”

“Damn, this couch is dirty. I need to take another shower.”

Excuses, excuses.