Pride of the 90's

Chapter 11

This is a bad idea.

This is a bad idea.

We have a White Castle?

This is...what is this again?

I ran. I ran so god damn fast to Brandon's house that I couldn't stop, looking and feeling like a jackass the entire time as I had my board in my hand. So, instead of knocking on his door or ringing the doorbell, I just slammed into the door. Not that I was trying to. I literally couldn't stop myself. I should never be allowed to run again. In fact, I should never be given super speed. I like being fast, but I am DANGEROUS with speed.

Oh, that's right.

THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA!

What the hell am I thinking? Even if I do tell him the truth, he won't want to be with me. I wouldn't want to be with me. I'm impulsive, indecisive, emotionally unstable, I can never fully make up my mind, can't commit to anything, can't pay attention long enough to fully register what's going on, have a terrible memory, not to mention all the shit I did, or rather didn't do, to him. I can't even keep my girlfriend happy, which is probably due to recent events, but still, what would make this any different?

Not only do I make a bad boyfriend, but I doubt I'm even his type. He's probably more into the punk or grunge type. The kind of guy that wears ripped clothes on purpose and listens to sad music and claims 'it's not sad, it's just emotional' and cried when Kurt Cobain died, like they actually knew him.

Maybe I can leave before anyone notices?

After I hit the door, which hurt less than I thought it would, I fell on the ground, dropping my board. Luckily, there aren't any steps at his front door, so I didn't fall to hard. The fall did hurt, though.

Before I could make my dastardly escape, Brandon opened the door, wearing an old tank top and red plaid pajama pants. His hair was a mess, but he's always a mess, so. He looked down to see me on the ground. When I looked up and saw him standing there, I couldn't help but smile like an idiot.

"Danny?" He asked.
"Hey," I said like a love struck fangirl.
"Hi? Did you just slam into my door?" He said, helping me up.
"Yeah. I went so fast that I couldn't stop and...yeah," I said, laughing nervously.
"Can we talk?"
"Yeah, I guess."

He let me into his house, closing the door behind us and leading me into the living room, where Animaniacs was playing on the TV. The living room was somehow smaller than the kitchen. The floral-pattern couch sat in the center, against the off-white walls, an end table on either side. A worn out recliner sat in the corner, facing the TV, with a wood-varnished coffee table in the center of the room.

He sat on the couch, picking up a bowl of cereal and crossing his legs on the coffee table.

"So, what did you wanna talk about?" He asked, taking a bite of what I assume was Trix.
"I wanted to talk about last night," I said, sitting next to him.
"What about it?" He replied, his mouth full.
"What do you mean what about it?"
"We worked on the project, thats it. Right?" He asked, almost confirming it with me.

That's it? He comes out to me, I come out to him, I kiss him, then run away. Why is he acting like nothing happened?

"What do you mean thats it?" I asked, confused. "Did you forget what you told me? Or what I told you? Or that we kissed?"
"No, we didn't."
"But-"
"We didn't kiss last night. Why would we? You're not even gay. I am, but you're not. You sure it's not just your bad memory mixing me up with Maddy?"
"I'm serious. And don't use that against me so casually, it makes me feel like an idiot."
"Danny, I don't know what you want. We didn't kiss last night. Why would we?"