The Two of Us

®

The walk over to Fallon and Leslie's house on Tuesday was fucking slippery.

Want to know why?

It was because the sky decided to be an asshole and rain on the snow, making it all fucking icy.

Eddie did offer me a ride, but honestly, the prospect of possibly slipping and cracking my skull open sounded less dangerous than being in a car with him when there was snow on the ground.

So...

Yeah.

Had to grip onto a few street lights and trees to keep upright on the way over (and I may or may not have pissed off some old lady getting her mail by loudly exclaiming, "Shit!" after nearly falling), but other than that I managed to arrive without any issues.

Once again, instead of somebody who actually lived in the house opening the door, Blair opened it, holding Wolfie back.

"Hey," she greeted. "Did you...did you walk all the way over here?"

"You can tell?"

She nodded and stepped aside to let me in. "Your face is super red. I can't believe you walked. It's so icy that I nearly ate it two times just walking up the path."

First off, I'd argue that my face was always kinda red and it made me look like I had an annoying perma-blush, but whatever.

Second, who's to say I didn't do the exact same thing before knocking on the door?

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's no big deal. The trip over here was fucking fantastic. I looked like an Olympic figure skater gliding across the sidewalk, masterfully guiding myself to this door while sprinkling in a few tricks here and there like a tasteful seasoning."

Blair bit her lip in an attempt to hold back laughter. "I find that extremely hard to believe, but I will admit that I'm visualizing it in my head and it's very funny for some reason."

I was about to be offended, but then I realized she was right.

"Okay, it is kinda funny," I admitted, kicking my boots off and putting them next to everyone else's. "Are Freddy and Bon-Bon already here?"

"Yeah."

That wasn't surprising. 

I was not known for being early to anything.

Leslie popped out of the kitchen with a can of Pepsi® in hand. "Pizza has been ordered, my guy."

"Okay, cool," Blair replied.

And then Leslie noticed my presence. "Shit, man. About time you got here."

I decided to ignore that because I was too distracted by what I had just learned. "Oh my god, you drink Pepsi®?"

"I do. Why? You got a problem with Pepsi®, man?"

"Yes, I do have a problem. It's filth."

Leslie gasped in feigned offense, clearly trying not to smile. "How fucking dare you. If you say anything like that ever again, I'll throw a can of Pepsi® at your head. If I don't have one with me, I'll go to the nearest vending machine or gas station, purchase one, head back over to wherever the hell you are, and clock you in the head with it."

"As if. I'll dodge every soda you throw."

"Wanna bet?"

Blair stepped between us. "Woah now, calm down. Nobody is getting hit with any canned beverages. Again."

"Ugh, lame," we both groaned at the same time.

Leslie punched me. "Jinx!"

"Fuck!"

"And now that you've talked, you owe me a soda."

"Alright, I'll get you a Coke® from the school vending machine tomorrow."

"Do that and there'll be dire consequences. Namely death."

"Is that so? Because—"

"Oh my god, I can't believe this conversation is still going," Blair interrupted. "Let's just go upstairs already."

And then, abruptly, she picked me up, put me over her shoulder as I uttered a number of colorful words, and carried me up the stairs while Leslie followed.