The Senior and The Junior

Chapter 10: Friday Night

Christopher's POV

You're lucky, it's Friday." He says, after opening the door and inviting me in. "When are your parents coming home?" I ask, examining the nicely furnished home, taking a better look from the last time I saw it, which I should say didn't see much from the darkness. "My mom's working a night shift at the hospital." Dylan goes on, grabbing a couch cushion and zipping it open. "What're you doing kid?" I confusingly eye him down as he rummages through the stuffing. "The key to my mom's liquor cabinet." He keeps his attention focused on finding the key. "How exactly do you know where she keeps it?" I ask, intrigued by Dylan's sudden cooperation. Maybe he's just so happy that someone is hanging out with him. "You're lucky I need to ask you some questions. And I've seen her hide it before. She's not very sneaky when it comes to being secretive." He explains.

"Bingo." He smiles, taking his hand out. From the corner of my eye, a visible golden key was resting in the palm of his right hand. "Now, let's get to those questions." He zips the cushion up and puts it back in place.

Shortly after disappearing into his garage and coming back out with a bottle of whiskey like I requested, he places it in front of my very eyes on the kitchen counter. 

"I'll be back. I forgot something up in my room." He says before jogging upstairs to retrieve what I would think is his notebook and pencil. As I waited for Dylan to return I noticed all the pictures hung up all over the place of him. From baby pictures to current pictures. "Okay, shall we get to work?" He shouts from the top of the stairs, slowly descending the steps. "Yeah," I reply, not fully focused on Dylan, just on his baby pictures. He takes the seat from across me and opens up the same page he had previously written on. I believe it was the day I took him to that club and he got drunk.

"What is your greatest achievement from any sport at Roseville High?" He speaks with such formality. "Easy. When I made a touchdown, starting from the twenty-yard line." I pop open the cap with my hands. 

"And how did the coach help you achieve that goal?"

"Coach Tanner has always encouraged me to do my best at my worst. And I never stopped training and always gave it my all at practices. Coaches daily words of wisdom to the whole team always give me the motivation and confidence I have today not to mention he points out my many flaws and helps me perfect them. He doesn't baby me." I lift the whiskey and take a long drink. "Chill before you choke," Dylan speaks as he continues to look down at his tiny notebook, focused on writing. "Next question." He finishes, looking up and smiling. "Not until I eat something." I stop him mid-question. "Are you kidding me? I got you alcohol now get to talking." He shoots a dirty look.

"Nope." I cross my arms. He rolls his eyes, groans loudly, and hops out of his seat. He opens the fridge and bends down to grab something from the bottom drawer. "Let me ask you some things while you prepare the king something." I joke. "Don't ever call yourself that again." He shoots up straight with something wrapped in foil resting in the palm of his hand.

"You ever dated anyone before?"

"None of your business." He says in a stern voice. He unwraps the foil and slabs two slices of pepperoni pizza on a plate and throws it in the microwave. "Oh come on. That guy Jonathan seems pretty into you." I imply. "He's not gay." He turns around and leans on the counter. "I'm almost 100% sure he is dude," I assure him, trying to give him at least the tiniest bit of hope. From the looks of it, he needs a boyfriend or some kind of partner. "If you want I can teach you my ways." I take another sip of my drink.

The pizza is finished warming up and Dylan serves it to me. He takes his seat and then jots some things down into the notebook. I can only assume it's more hard-hitting questions.

After an hour or so of questions, we moved from the kitchen to the living room and then to his room. He yawns from his desk and then places his elbow on the table and his hand on his cheek leaning forward. "Ok, I think that's enough for one night." He yawns loudly, stretching his body on the chair.

Dylan's POV

"Hello?" I look over my shoulder and at my bed. Chris is sound asleep and he's also drunk. I can't let him go drunk especially if he's driving. But he can't stay here. He's too big to move.