The Hustler [Alex Gaskarth]

Chapter Nine: The Great Pumpkin

      Late Friday night of the same week, I got an extremely cryptic text from Alex; We're hanging out tomorrow. Dress comfortably. You might get dirty. Pick up's at 2. This is not a date. 

      I laughed at his customary closing, shook my head, and put my phone back on my work desk next to my mouse. The tiny clock in the bottom right-hand corner of my desktop told me it was already eleven thirty, which meant I'd been working for nearly four and a half hours straight. Lucy was out with her latest boy-toy, Hank, a guy who bore a remarkable resemblance to Tom Cruise in Top Gun, but like, a foot taller. From the way she had been dressed, and the way they'd been eyeing each other before they'd left, I didn't her expect her back home until sometime Saturday morning. 

      A loud yawn pushed its way through my lips, and I stretched out my arms until they cracked. It was time for me to get some sleep, I told myself. I needed to be well-rested for whatever the hell Alex had in mind for the next day. 

      The childish part of me wanted to stay up just a little bit later, playing with colors and shapes until I couldn't see straight anymore, but the grown-up part of me told them to settle down and get ready for bed. I squelched the grown-up part, and played a little more. 

      When I finally stopped, it was well past three in the morning, and I could barely see straight. I was about to shut everything down and log off, when the familiar jingle for Skype played, signalling I had a call. Soon, a translucent black bubble covered up part of my screen. 

      ConnorPier calling. Accept/Ignore. 

      Accept. Definitely accept. 

      Soon, the familiar face of my former pre-fiancée took over the screen. "Hey, hoe!" 

      "Hey, douchebag!" I smiled back. Connor knew about my job, and never stopped teasing me about it. Not that I minded. He was one of the few people I could never stay mad at, and he knew it. My parents claimed it was love, but we both were pretty sure it was our special understanding, the mutual dislike of our parents' crazy schemes to get us together. "What are you doing up?" 

      "I'm in California. It's a little before one here. What are you doing up? Just get home from a 'date'?" He winked, putting finger quotes around the 'date'. 

      I laughed. "You wish, Pierpont. Nope, I was just doing some work because I didn't want to sleep." 

      He snorted. "Only you." 

      "Only me what?" 

      "Only you would use work as a reason to not go to sleep. Any normal person would be watching Friends or doing something equally unproductive. You, on the other hand... You're one in a million, Air." 

      "Seven billion. There's seven billion people in the world, and if any one of them is exactly like me, I must be doing something terribly, terribly wrong," I giggled. 

      His blue-gray eyes shined with laughter, and he smiled simply. "I miss you, Air. We need to hang out when I get back to B-More!" 

      "We do! I haven't been hugged properly in almost two and a half months!" I lifted my foot up in front of the webcam, and waved it around. "These feet have not left the ground during a hug in two and a half months!" 

      "Oh, you poor child!" Connor said in mock-seriousness. "This is a travesty! I'm surprised you haven't withered away to nothing. Then again, it almost looks like you have. You're not... you know again, right?" 

      "Of course not! I'm totally healthy! Jesus, Con, you worry about me way too much! Trust me, I'm a hundred per cent. I've just been working out a little more, that's all."