Have you ever wished you could take back a night? Wished you could at least forget it ever happened? That’s how I felt, watching Rachel whiz around my bedroom. My head throbbed and I wanted to barf. Too much booze had me in a black hole and I’d hooked up with Rachel. After two years of keeping her at arm’s length, she finally got to me. I wanted to fucking shoot myself.
“Do you see my shoes? Do you think they’re in your car?” She chirped. Her mood was way too chipper for me and I hung my head trying not to puke. “Aww baby. What’s wrong?”
She sat down next to me, rubbing the top of my head. I stopped myself from pulling away, fighting the urge to be a dick. I wanted to blame the whole thing on her, but how lame would that be? What guy doesn’t want a booty call? I shivered at the thought. What was I thinking? I didn’t even like her like that.
“I wanna throw up, that’s what’s wrong.” My head remained buried in my hands. I wanted to tell her it was a mistake. Maybe this would blow over and things would be like they were before. I could only hope. “What time is it? I have a meeting with a producer who came to the show last night.”
She looked at her cell. “Its 9:30.”
Giving me a wet peck on the cheek, she got up and disappeared into the bathroom. With disgust I wiped her spit residue off my face and hoofed it out of my room. This could turn ugly, I thought. My mouth was as dry as the desert; with relief I gulped down some Gatorade as I stood in front of the fridge. At least last night’s show had gone well – we were on fire. I smiled with satisfaction. It seemed like every one of my classmates had come to our show in Hollywood to kick off summer vacation. The place had been packed with familiar faces. We partied like the world was ending, even though it was really just beginning. We were all finally seniors.
Thankfully my mother wasn’t home when Rachel finally left. I blamed our awkward goodbye on my hangover. Her normally painted face was clean from the dark eye makeup and red lipstick. This was the first time I’d seen her without her war paint on. She looked odd without it. As pretty as she was, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about her. She wasn’t a natural beauty. Cute, yeah, but nothing special. She didn’t do it for me, simple as that. I wondered what that saying was – Don’t shit where you sleep? Was that the right phrase for this? Ugh. Rachel was such a big part of my band life and now this was gonna seriously screw things up. I just knew it.
Driving to West Hollywood was the last thing I wanted to do, bad as I felt. The summer heat was just beginning and it made my wooziness worse. I tried to focus on the task at hand. When I got to King’s Road Café on Beverly, the outside tables were packed. Every hipster in town must have been eating there. You couldn’t help but feel self conscious walking up. Everyone watched everyone else, wondering who they were, if they were anyone big. I chuckled to myself at how new-age-twilight-zone the scene was. Everyone with their hip clothes and their cool shades trying to look like they weren’t trying, it was a joke. The fact was we were all trying. At least I could admit it.
I spotted Jeff and made a beeline to him. I could literally feel the eyes poking me as I passed by.
“Hey Man, thanks for driving up,” he said, holding his hand out.
I gave him a firm shake and glanced around. “I don’t think I’m cool enough to eat here.”
He shrugged. “Just think of it as a bad 3D experience.”
We both laughed.
“I have to admit though, I’m a little jealous of all the tattoo sportin’ mo-fo’s.” I said, opening the menu. “I want a sleeve on this arm.”
He nodded. “You’re gonna have to wait until you’re 18, unless you can talk your mom into taking you to Arizona.”
“No shit?!”
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SKID OUT (#0.5 Heavy Influence)
Teen Fiction'His shirt came up, exposing his stomach, and all I could do was stare at his smooth skin. I wanted to touch him. He looked through his hands and caught me staring at him. I didn’t move. Reaching over he touched my arm, tracing it with the tips of h...
