Thirty-Two
"Here?"
"Yeah, there's fine."
Dylan and I were shifting the furniture arrangement around the bookstore. There was a lot of clutter in some sections, restricting people from getting to the Atlas' and Encyclopedia's.
"We'll be taking that red chair out to the garbage pickup."
Dylan gestured to one of the more worn down chairs. I could tell it was aged; the cloth tattered, the cushion sinking in on itself when no weight was pressed upon it. The chair had obviously seen better days, and a lot of ass.
"But it's got so much character!" I laughed, sitting down and sprawling myself across the cushions.
"Draw me like one of your French girls..." I toyed, flipping my hair over my shoulder. I narrowed my eyes lustrously, leaning back before I fell doubled over in laughter.
Dylan rolled his eyes, laughing as he ran his hand over the wooden frame of the chair and then into my hair.
"I will pick you up and move you off that chair if I have to."
"Try me."
Dylan grabbed my arm and started to pull me off the chair, both of us laughing madly.
"You can't even move me. So disappointed in my weak ass boyfriend."
"I'm TRYING."
"Ow that's my boob."
Dylan turned bright red and stopped trying to move me off the chair; only making us both laugh even more wildly than before.
I stood up completely and looked down at the chair; that after the previous escapade, had even more dips and dives in its cushion than before.
"Why do you want to get rid of this old thing anyway?"
Dylan shrugged.
"My mom said something about remodeling the store. Get rid of some of the old stuff."
I nodded, staring at the chair, and wondering if there was something more to pushing out the old and keeping the new.
