10 Days [Brallon]

Plan 1, 2, 3, And An Unmentioned 4

[I feel bad for not touching this for like a whole week also Sickly Sweet Holidays is so good I'm gonna listen to it until my ears bleed]

"Plan 1," I yelled over the dressing room stall and tossed a shirt to the right, where it should've landed in the 'maybe' pile next to Patrick. "Plan 1 is the easiest. We go on date. Date doesn't go as well as either of us expected. We go our separate ways and maybe remain awkward friends."

Tyler huffed loudly to the left outside the dressing room door. Either it was from annoyance because Patrick had just thrown a couple more dress shirts over the stall door, or he thought I was feeding him bullshit like Frosted Flakes, and even I couldn't tell the difference between either option.

Well it was his fault, partially. It wasn't my decision to literally carry me out the door and to the nearest shopping center with some decently priced dress shirts at the news that I'd been asked on a date. It definitely wasn't my choice to be trying on 50 or something of them either, especially when I'm supposed to be picked up in like 45 minutes.

"Plan 2 is worse," I unlocked the stall door and Patrick gasped in horror and screamed for a short second, covering his eyes at the checkered shirt he'd recently thrown over for me (which did NOT look good but I had to emphasize how stupid this is) "plan 2 involves being run over by his motorcycle on purpose-"

"Plan 2 sounds stupid." Tyler whined. I chucked the checkered shirt at him.

"What's plan 3?" Patrick sighed. I heard a couple hangers clink together and I assumed was for the insanely huge nope pile of shirts we needed to put back. The poor store employees would be swamped with dress shirts to return tonight. Maybe I should tape a couple dollars to a few shirts as like a tip or something like that.

Well, I would if I could afford anything like that. I still don't have air conditioning.

"Plan 3 is a very complicated scheme that will only ever happen if this date goes kinda like a terribly produced romcom movie, which I'm not anticipating but it would be an exceptional deed from the universe if it did."

I paused for dramatic effect and Patrick thwacked a hanger on the door impatiently.

"Plan 3 is when we get married immediately and Elton John plans the wedding." 

"Why not Neil Patrick Harris? He's got the fancy magic tricks too. He can like, pull the rings out of a hat." Tyler sighed loudly in disappointment that I didn't chose somebody else who was obviously the better choice.

But dang. He's got me there.

I'll admit the pink shirt I'd grabbed next didn't look too terrible. It looked better than all the other ones I'd been forced to try on so far.

"That ones the best yet." Patrick nodded, which terrified me because I'd just tried on like 70 shirts.

"You don't like the beach one with the sharks?"

"Absolutely not!" Tyler hollered and pushed up to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can say for both of us that this is the best and we still have to find you some decent pants that don't have rips in the knees."

"My work pants don't have rips-"

Tyler patted me on the back and shoved a pair of pants into my hands. "The fact that you called them work pants, says enough on its own."

Thankfully we got out of there with just over 15 minutes to spare since I'd insisted we just get the 8th pair we found and there was no way in hell I was going to try on 60 different pairs of pants.

I pity the discarded clothes we accidentally dropped randomly throughout the store.

The ride home was filled with just miscellaneous nagging and incoherent screaming and arguing about how I shouldn't look so tired and bored all the time, that I should try to lighten up. Patrick threatened to throw a lamp at me if I didn't.

I don't own a lamp though, and at the mention of it I got slapped with the magazine Tyler left partially taped to the back of the passenger seat (because you'll never know when you need to read a magazine that won't ever get lost).

"Okay, so you know how you do the thing where you don't talk for like 8 years?" Tyler yelled from the drivers seat in his small voice "don't do that."

"And be nice," Patrick huffed, reaching across the back seats and squishing my cheeks together like the grandma at a family reunion "this is like a once in a lifetime thing."

I mean like, if this date went like plan 4 (which I hadn't gotten the chance to say, but it involved a second date) then it wouldn't exactly be a once in a lifetime thing. But both Patrick and Tyler were overly excited for me.

So that's cool.

Over to Brendon now because that'll be cool too

"Take him to like the aquarium over near that one place." Josh muttered and dropped my pillow back on the floor where it wasn't supposed to be but was anyways.

For the past half hour, Pete and Josh were sprawled out across my bed, playing go fish and chopsticks while suggesting places where I could take Dallon since I had literally no idea where. It had to be good though, because I kinda wanted to impress him.

The restaurant I'd planned to go to had been booked when I called like 10 minutes after I got home and finished screaming from excitement into my pillow, which was bull, because it's like McDonald's but with much better service.

And apparently McDonald's fancier substitutes get booked for 3 weeks before the date, which was also utter bull.

I'd called them out on it too, because that's just the type of person I am, and I told them "how am I supposed to take a guy on a date when I didn't even know him like a week ago?" and the lady talking to me said that's a personal problem and hung up. I hope she got fired. She probably deserved it.

"Aquariums are cool," Pete sighed, which was also not helping "fish are also cool."

"Yknow what else is cool? Black shirts with red ties." Josh pointed towards the button up shirt hanging off the tv mounted on to my wall, which had literally been there since they arrived to 'help'.

"Yeah, I was planning on wearing that."

"Take your motorcycle. Chicks love motorcycles."

"Pete, he's not a chick."

"Anyone can be a chick if they believe in themselves."

Well I was going to take the motorcycle considering it was the only vehicle I owned even though Ryan cracked a whole carton of eggs over the hood of the one car I had while I was out the other day. I refuse to drive it anywhere. It's too degrading to even drive down to the auto parts store or the car wash stationed outside of the grocery store for some odd reason.

It turns out eggs are very hard to scrape off of windshields. Especially when they literally fry because it's so hot outside. Or maybe Ryan used a hair dryer to fry them. He has like 20 of those.

On the bright side, some birds have been fed.

But on the downside, they're eating the unborn children of relatives from their family bird tree and they don't even know it.

Maybe that would be considered cannibalism.

Or maybe not, because they didn't know it.

On another note, I'm just glad Dallon didn't see the egg versus car incident though. That'd be embarrassing.

The clock chimed downstairs and Pete tossed my jacket across the room, Josh chucking the two helmets off the nightstand and safely into my arms.

Maybe I should've brought flowers. Wait, it's too late for that I can't drive to pick up flowers for and from the only florist in town. I think I already messed up. Do I usually sweat this much?

"Don't screw this up, you've got like one shot."

"Thanks for the reassurance."