Positively Negative [Rewrite]

Dec07: Teeth, Tigers, and Other Such Things

FREDDIE

"Fuck!" Ryan shouted, madly pressing buttons, and I knew exactly how he felt when I turned to face Joey as he was laughing aloud. There was no better word in the English language to express the emotion or, in fact, the situation than that multi purpose expletive.

His teeth were visible, the way he was laughing, and they were both straight, and white. I wondered if he'd worn braces, or they were just naturally like that. Decided it was more likely the former because, honestly, how could a set of teeth be so perfectly aligned? Orion's belt kinda thing. And—the thought made me chuckle a little—what would he have looked like with them in? Bottom row and top. Had they been purple? Blue? Clear, maybe.

"Freddie, you're going to die-" his elbow dug sharply into my side, though I didn't think he'd meant to do it as hard as he had because he then pulled away quickly and looked as if he'd apologise for a second before his attention was returned back to the TV. "Are you even—"

And fuckcame to mind again. What the hell was I doing getting lost in thoughts of Joey and his bloody teeth? In Joey and anything?

Damn yesterday. It had probably been the rain.

The small storm at the beach had brought with it a Joey I had never known or imagined could exist beneath the baggy hoodie and jeans. As though the water had washed away all signs of the abrasive personality I'd known thus far, and all that was left was soft and vulnerable, drunken and lost, and insecure. It pulled on the part of me that rooted for the underdog a little too hard, and I found myself falling fast. Into what I didn't know, but my eyes were following the path of his hands as they ran along his scalp and through the field of almost white-blonde hair that grew there. Spotting signs of bruises I'd inflicted that still had not healed—his left eye in particular. I had an urge to apologise, but he was focused on the game, like I should have been.

The remote control in my hands vibrated erratically, telling me I was in danger of dying. My health was almost out, and it was the same for my common sense apparently. Joey had shuffled a little, briefly bumping his arm to mine –just the fact that I'd been so damn aware of it irked me.

Joey fucking Hartman. Of all the straight population to develop a ridiculous crush on.

I finally paused the game, grinning a little as both Joey and Ryan whipped their heads to face me so fast that I was genuinely surprised neither of them seemed to suffer whiplash.

"Hey!" The latter looked as cheated as he no doubt felt, evidently stumped at the nerve of my pausing his game before he was done. "What are you doing?"

"Going to get a drink. Do any of you guys want one?"

He relaxed. "There's beer left, right?" Joey nodded in the affirmative.

"I have some too, in my bag, if not," I offered, to which Ryan smiled gratefully at me. It was beyond odd, communicating with Ryan as I was. At school we literally did not give each other the time of day, and 'Jokey prick' were the only words I knew to associate him with. He seemed like a pretty relaxed guy though. Not purposely spiteful, but he wasn't going to win any awards for his kindness either.

"I think I'll just have some water," Joey told me.

Ryan sent an unimpressed glare at Joey. "Are you kidding?"

Joey glanced from Ryan to me and then back at his friend. "Fine. Cider. Whatever."

It took me a moment to register the requests I was actually receiving, and I glanced at the chunky silver watch on my left wrist. "Wait, it's twelve in the afternoon," I said slowly. The two blinked at me. "Are you serious right now? Alcoholic much." Still no reaction. I stood and dropped the remote on Joey's lap. "I'm getting us all juice, okay?"