Thoughts and Random Things

The Bridgefolk, part 1

Seventeen years young and living the dream!

I know, it's an awful tattoo, and I'll have to get it removed in August when I turn eighteen, but right now I'm too drunk to care.
Cleo Davidson walks up to me. "Hey there big man, you're getting a tattoo? Mm, so brave...." She leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

I scowl. "Cut it out, Cleo. And put on some pants." I scan her body up and down. She's wearing nothing but some lacy black lingerie. Yuck.

"But baby," she whines, "I miss us." She blinks her big green eyes and leans in again, this time to whisper in my ear. "Remember when we dated, the way we would kiss, the way we would hold each other at night...."

The tattoo artist smacks Cleo lightly on the shoulder. "Hey!" she shouts as Cleo backs up a little. In her Italian accent, the artist continues: "Don't get so close to the young boy! And he is right, too. Si prega di mettere su alcuni pantaloni."

"Uh, yeah, whatever," says Cleo dismissively. She adjusts her bra and winks at me before strutting away and out of the tattoo parlor. She's gonna freeze out there with no clothes on! I wait for the tattoo artist to finish and then I call Cleo's cell phone.

"Hey baby," I greet.

~

I wake up in my bed with a half-naked Cleo next to me and a fresh tattoo on my right bicep. I check my phone. 13 missed calls, 9 voicemails. What the hell happened last night?!

I scroll through the list of missed calls. Jake, Jake, Logan, Jake, Agatha, Jake... wait a minute, Agatha?!

Suddenly the memories of last night come flooding back. The party, the endless alcohol, the tattoos, Cleo seducing me... no. No, this can't be right. Was I really so drunk that I cheated on Agatha with Cleo?

I call Agatha. She doesn't pick up. I call again. No luck. I call a third time. Agatha picks up on the third ring.

"What do you want from me, Elliot?"

"Agatha, plase, just hear me out--"

"No," Agatha snaps. "You know what happened? Do you want to know?"

I remain silent. I hate seeing Agatha angry. She speaks again. "You and Cleo fucking Davidson needed someone to drive you back to your respective homes because you were both drunk beyond belief and Cleo was naked or something. Anyway, I go to the tattoo parlor to you pick you guys up, and neither of you are there. Now, here I was panicking about you, so I go to your house to see if you're there. I just wanted to make sure you were save, Ell. Your front door was unlocked so I came in and heard noise coming from upstairs. So I went up. Into your bedroom. And there you were, making sweet passionate love to Cleo fucking Davidson, and I'm just standing there, crying in the doorway because you cheated on me, Elliot. And you know what happened next?"

I sigh into the phone, feeling like absolute shit. "What happened next?"

"You noticed me. You saw me, crying in the doorway. And then... and then," I can hear her choking up a little bit, "You asked me if I wanted to join you."

"Ag--" I begin to protest, but she's already hung up on me. Cleo tosses and turns, running a hand through her hair. "Ell?" she mumbles sleepily. I kick her under the sheets. She grimaces in pain.

"Elliot, what the hell was that for?"

I throw the sheets off of me and bolt up out of bed. Quickly I realize I'm naked. There's a discarded pair of boxers on the floor, and I hastily put them on as I yell: "Get out of my house, Cleo." I make sure my underwear is secure around my waist and I point to the door.