Unthinkable

April***Part 3

Two heads pop up from behind the seat in front of us, Melanie and her new trusty sidekick Shannon. "So are you and Jake, like, a couple?" Melanie can't be without the latest gossip.

"Excuse me?" I glance sideways at Penny, is this really happening? We are on our way to New York for the annual Band and Chorale trip.

I'm basically the water boy, but they let me come anyways. And by that I mean I couldn't carry a tune with a bucket, but Chorale needs all the members they can get so they can qualify. Plus, who doesn't want to go on the trip to New York?

Penny and I had grabbed seats at the back of the bus, hoping to be left alone. Clearly that was a fail.

"Like, is it official? Is he, like, your boyfriend?" Shannon encouraging her.

Like she couldn't just ask her 'best friend Jake?' She loves to remind me how close they are.

"Like, is it any of your business?" Penny in her best Valley Girl accent. Never passing up an opportunity to mock in a fun accent.

"Like fer shure," I chime in. Unable to resist the urge.

"Sounds like he's still fair game then. Good," Melanie goads me. "I guess we'll have to do something about that." Slutty little minx. Of course she still wants to make a play for Jake.

"Cheez-It?" Penny shoves a giant, gallon-sized bag of Cheez- in their faces. And with that they slither back down in their seats.

'Thank you,' I mouth to her, not wanting those nosy bitches to hear, and reach for some Cheez- Its.

"I'm not sure you want to be eating those if you're gonna be making out," Penny teases as a stream of orange crumbs escape her lips.

Right, like we'll be making out on the bus.

We settled in for the ride to New York City.

***

Dinner is at this crazy theme restaurant called "Jekyll & Hyde." It's basically goth Applebees. We've taken over the entire bottom floor. Seems wise to keep 60 high school band geeks away from the other patrons.

"If you are ordering dessert, do it now. We are leaving here at 6:30 sharp to make it to the show," Ms. Levin futilely yells over the chatter.

Never one to pass up free food, Jake flags down the waiter, "I'll have the tiramisu." This kid never stops eating.

"The what?" I've never heard of this dessert.

"You are Italian, don't tell me you haven't had tiramisu," he teases, resting both of his hands on my knees under the table.

"We're more of a pizzelle, sour cream cookie kinda family," I shrug.

"Well, you are gonna have to try it." He winks. He's so cute.

The waiter makes his way to our end of the table. His agility is impressive. He places this wet, cake-looking thing in front of Jake. And, if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was moving.

Oh yeah, I am not eating that. That's gross.

"Here, try it?" Jake was offering me a forkful of mush across the table.

Mmmm, no. "Thanks, I'm good with my cheesecake. You know, when in New York..."

"Try it." He insists, moving the fork closer to my mouth. My lips zip shut. I am not putting that in my mouth. I shake my head insistently, lightly pushing his arm away from me.

I hope no one else is seeing this. I glance quickly around the room. All clear.

"Sam, just eat it." He stands, leaning over the table and pulling open my bottom lip with two freakishly strong fingers, before feeding me the tiramisu. Oh my god. It's mushy and cold. Oh and there are chunks. I can't swallow this. I can't. Satisfied he turns his attention to the rest of his dish. I pretend to wipe my mouth, while spitting out as much of the vile stuff as possible. Slyly dropping the cold slop napkin onto the floor. I'm going to have to leave extra tip.

"It's so good, right?" he exclaims.

This is nasty, there are still remnants in my mouth. My eyes dart around the table, everyone's drinks were empty, except for Penny's coffee.

I hate coffee, but I've got to get rid of this terrible slime in my mouth. I grab her coffee and down a huge swig. And swish. Penny will understand.

Shannon, just a couple chairs down from me, leans back in her chair, she's just a couple down from me, taps me on the shoulder and whispers, "And that's why he's not your boyfriend yet," pointing to the evidence on the floor. "You won't swallow." She smirks, tipping her chair upright, rejoining the debate over best song in "Les Misérables."

Someone is always paying attention.

***