Changing For Her

We get Engaged

        David circles what he wrote on the board, puts the cap onto the marker, and wipes his brow. “I believe this,” He gestures to the board, “Is the key to how we will get our little Marco,” Now he gestures to me, “and Selena to do the you-know-what.”

          We all nod our head in agreement. I stand up from my lounge chair and walk towards the board. “Why didn’t I see this before?” I turn back to the guys. “It’s a cliché! It has to work!”

          “So it’s decided then. Marco will corner Selena tomorrow at the party, talk to her, and eventually charm his way into her pants.” David starts to clean off the board since we all knew the plan.

          I sit back down in my comfy chair (seriously, the thing is AMAZING), and run my hands threw my hair and find that it is sweaty. We did some hard work, thinking up all those plans. There were like twenty different scenarios and most of them ended with me either getting Selena or me getting kneed in the balls. Again, I do not need my precious jewels getting injured.

          I glance over at Asher who is currently shaking with silent laughter. I throw the eraser at him and he calms down a bit. “What the hell is so funny, Ash? You look like your having a fucking seizure or something. I was worried.”

          He wipes away a tear from his eyes. Yeah, he was laughing that hard. “The dance party is going to lead to a no pants party,” he explains, barely making it to the end before he cracks himself up again. “What up!” He says enthusiastically and sticks his hand out for a high five. I roll my eyes at him. “Come on! You have to high five me for this one!”

          James slides over to us on his wheelie-chair. “Don’t do it, man,” He whispers in my ear, tickling it in the process. “It wasn’t even that good.”

          I think about the joke again and shrug my shoulders. I can’t leave a bro hanging. I give in and give the poor bastard his damn high five. David and James groan. “What? It was pretty good,” I attempt to defend myself. The guys just shake their heads. “It rhymed!”

I’ll skip ahead thirty minutes because we argued about Asher’s joke for that long.

          “Shit,” David murmurs to himself after reading a message on his phone.

          “What’s up?” James questions.

          He scratches the back of his head, “I have to pick up Lizzie.” Allow me to explain, “Lizzie” is David’s little sister. She or David must’ve been adopted because there is no way they are siblings. I mean, Lizzie is adorable and David is . . . well, David. Again, don’t get your hopes up about me and her because she is four years old. That would be just wrong, people.

          “Just bring her with us,” I tell David, “We’re only going party supplies shopping.”

          “Fine, but you’re in-charge of her, dude.” Oh, David. You don’t understand the favor you did for me.

          “Oh no, please don’t make me take her,” I say sarcastically, “It’s not like she helps me pick up chicks.” Girls dig a guy who is caring to kids.

          He chuckles and then realizes, “You use my baby sister to get laid?!” Oh shit . . . “Great idea! Jeez, I missed out on four years of getting girls. Damn.”

          And with that we head out to James’ ridiculously awesome garage and hop in his 2010 Audi A5. I lean back in the German leather seats and daydream about Selena.

          My thoughts are interrupted by a cute little voice, Lizzie’s to be exact. “Marcoroni!” She shouts as she climbs into the back seat and onto me, nearing stepping on a spot that would make me sing falsetto for a week.