Notes From The Underground

CHAPTER SIX

I've been having a good day. An actual, genuine good day. But naturally, I'm with Kendall. She's talking to me, but I'm listening to her voice. The sound makes my eyes roll to the back of my head, and doesn't give me butterflies but fucking pterodactyls, internal bleeding from those dino fuckers bouncing around in my stomach. Her voice is soft, but loud, and I do mean loud. It echoes for miles almost obnoxiously, but in the best way possible. I wonder what her throat would feel like when she spoke, it'd probably vibrate. I wonder if it'd do that when she moans too. I'm turned on, give me a break. I may be in love with her, but hey, she's hot. I'd put it in her butt.

I don't even remember what she was saying. Do I pretend like I understood and casually change the subject, or ask her? Let's do neither and I'll just keep blabbing at you. Sounds fun right? Anyways. Kendall and I have decided to go on a walk later, it's cold as shit outside but I don't mind the cold too much. It kind of wakes you up in a way, the brisk and cold air hitting your face, stiffening your skin like cardboard, biting your nose and hurting your eyes. Makes you think while you shake uncontrollably. It's like church camp all over again.

My chest isn't full of water. For once I'm empty but not apathetic, and god I swear that never happens and the feeling is blissful in more ways I could never even begin to describe. My ribs actually are put together, they aren't scattered puzzle pieces fitted together incorrectly as a makeshift cover for my organs. My heart isn't burnt newspaper held together by lamination and melted plastic. I like how I look today. I like how I feel. Like I said. First good day, first really good day, in a long time.

"Gabe I'm ordering pizza what do you want?" Kendall shouting interrupts my thoughts. I resist the urge to glare, deciding to respond with a joke.

"A bottle of vodka and an Asian girl who likes surprise butt sex." I said.

"I can get you one of those things."

"Please be the Asian." I crossed my fingers and she giggled, shoving me gently and going back to her phone conversation with the guy at the pizzeria. I make a lot of jokes to mask my anxiety ridden empty shell real personality. Wait was that too real. Shit.

She clicked off the phone, shaking her head at me like a disapproving mother and giggling the whole time as she walked into the kitchen. She always came over and acted like she lives here, which honestly at this point she basically did. She'd go in my fridge, drink right out of the milk carton, the juice jug, eat our left overs with her fingers and put it back in, eat cereal out of the box dry. Honestly she had no respect for anything. She still doesn't. Maybe it's part of why I love her.

She walked back in, opening the door and holding it with her hip as she carried two full jugs of orange juice, setting them on my coffee table and then going back to the refrigerator, returning a few minutes later with three kiwis, a bowl of cereal, and twenty dollars. She confuses me.

She set everything down, sitting next to me and opening the cap of one of the juice jugs, taking a drink from the jug. She sat there, for three minutes, drinking a continuous flow of juice, half of the jug already gone by the time she finally set it down. I stared at her, blown away almost. I've never seen anyone drink so much juice so fucking quick.

"What?" She asked, as if it was completely normal to drink so much juice in the span of three minutes.

"That juice is near gone. You took a singular long drink. How the hell?" I laughed softly.

"I really, really, really like orange juice."

"No kidding." I laughed again before we fell into silence. The comfortable silence. The kind we had together that made me want to blurt out I Love You or tell her how beautiful she was. The kind of silence that shouldn't be broken because of how mellow and nice it is to sit in.