Eddie

I guess to start the story in the correct place, the place that makes the most sense (or maybe the least sense, I don’t really know), we’d have to start when the night was young. Young to me, I don’t know about the mass produced, dyed black, caked on, fakers pretending to be captivated by the shitty lyrics of the band performing. If it wasn’t for my promise to my best friend that I’d stay and hear his band, I’d have left this teeny club within the first five minutes. I was hungry, damn it, and I really wanted to go to the 24-hour Chinese buffet that was a mere fifteen minute walk from this hell hole.

Luckily, after an hour of bad bass lines and ‘depressed’ boys screaming clichéd lyrics, I was one band away from hearing Chase’s band and being able to leave. Maybe I’d stay a few minutes afterward to give my thoughts to Chase or one of the other band members, but if I couldn’t find them within a few minutes I was out. The lounge was filled with hot, sweaty, scene bodies and I wasn’t willing to push through the teenies just to give my opinion on a ten minute show.

The band that was playing right before Chase’s, I think it was called Modest Coalition, wasn’t that bad. Compared to the others that’d performed before them, they were alright. The lyrics and music were all pretty normal, but they could at least play. It was a nice change. I was wondering what the hell Chase and The Days Junes were doing in this place; they were certainly cut a little above the rest of these bands. The Days Junes weren’t the best I’d ever heard but from their year and a half of playing small clubs and lounges they’d developed nicely.

Then again, when it came to The Days Junes I was probably a little biased. Chase, the drummer, was my best friend. Well, I don’t know if he was my best friend but he was certainly my only friend. It’s not one of those sappy, nobody likes me stories either. Chase just happens to be the only person I ever feel like being around.

When you go to a school that has an escalator, several police officers, metal detectors at the doors, and three lunch rooms, there are plenty of different people to choose from. There are jocks and nerds, and those in between. There are emos and preps and stoners, the group hoppers, the ones you can’t really classify, the haters, the gangsters, and of course with every group comes a following of posers. And almost every single one of the thousands of students that go to Cross High in the middle of this huge city get on my nerves.

I try not to be too picky either, I promise. Or maybe I just don’t even try to get to know any of them. I certainly had never tried when it came to Chase, or any of the other Days Junes members, but all four of them seem to care about me. Chase should actually annoy me, but I seem to care about him just as much. Well, I do now. When I first met him I wouldn’t have cared if he’d dropped dead, but I guess he grew on me. Or I finally admitted that he’s cool. But, after he sat next to me at every class we had together, stalked me until he found me at lunch, found me at the library after school and wouldn’t go away, I decided he was nice enough to stop being an ass to.

So, I started hanging out with Chase, who hung out with Trevor, who hung out with Sam, who hung out with Jack. The four of them made up The Days Junes, and I decided that if Chase hung out with them they were good enough for me to hang out with. That and I didn’t feel like being hateful the whole time I was with them.

With three years of friendship behind us, I decided I was supportive enough to come to a few of their shows. And this one was making me oh-so-thankful that I wasn’t in the band, having to be in places like this filled with people like this all the time. I would much rather be spending my time eating Butterfingers and slaving over college applications with my dad breathing down my neck. Not.

It would be lovely to be the type of kid who has a great life filled with failing grades, no ambition, and no friends to waste time with. However, when your dad’s the CEO of a major music company, the three siblings before you took up his capacity to deal with troublemakers, and you recently took yourself down in his sight about fifty notches by coming out of the closet, you do what you can to placate him. Add to that the fact that I’ve never (even though I’ve tried) gotten a B in any class, much less an F, and you’ve got a picture of success. Yes, I am well on my way to major monetary success, and I’ll probably achieve a few great things along the way. But I don’t give a fuck, because those are reachable goals that many people before me have also conquered.

Anyways. I’m still was sitting in a hot, sweaty club, watching the alright-but-not-better-than-The-Days-Junes band get their equipment off the stage and sipping a watery coke. In the moments of silence, the scene kids got their breath back while I nursed my bleeding ears, thinking that if I saw another boy in girl’s jeans I might scream. It just wasn’t that attractive. Especially if you weren’t thin.

Finally, the Days Junes were setting up, and one of the guys from Modest Coalition took the open seat next to me at the bar. I’d successfully glared away most of the people who threatened to take the seat, but the guy didn’t seem to get the point.

I watched the intruder, in his store bought faded jeans (that were loose, thankfully), checkered Vans that everyone and their mother wore, and multitudes of bracelets that adorned both arms. The only thing about him that seemed to be original was his shirt, which was a plain black Hanes t-shirt with a breast pocket. The bracelets were pretty original too, but they didn’t make up for the messy brown hair that’d obviously been gelled and worked on in front of a mirror to get. He was losing more and more points in my book as I went. Or maybe I was just being too much of a judgmental ass, but I couldn’t care less. The guy took the seat I had saved for my imaginary friend, after all, and that was definitely not cool. And then he decided to talk to me.

“Hi,” he said, like he wasn’t sure that was what you were supposed to say. He looked at me with kohl lined brown eyes, some of his hair falling into his face where the gel had sweated out. I recognized him as the bass player, the one that hadn’t jumped or screamed or anything. The small building was so hot that I understood why some of the kohl was smearing across his face, giving him the slight look of a raccoon.

“Um… hi,” I replied. I definitely hadn’t expected him to talk to me. Most of the time, when I think dirty about people, they don’t talk to me. Especially not in a voice that was practically smoldering.

“So, how are you doing?” he asked, sipping a Sprite the bartender handed him. This wasn’t going like I’d wanted it to. He was supposed to understand from the critical way I was looking at him that I was obviously disapproving of his whole style.

“Well, I’m hungry, my ears are bleeding because almost all of the band here are shit, the place is hot and making me uncomfortable, it’s filled with scene kids, and the only reason I’m here is because I’m trying to prove to myself that I can be a good friend. You?” I blurted, looking away when I realized how much of it I hadn’t meant to say. I heard Mr. Maybe-not-so-scene chuckling next to me before his mouth was once again occupied by the Sprite.

Of course, because I was thinking about his lips I had to look at them, which meant more thinking about them. His lips had that awesome thing going, where the bottom lip is full and red and the top lip is thin. Completely sexy, in my book. I had to stop before my thoughts went too far.

“So, I take it this isn’t your type of thing?” he asked, obviously being facetious.

“No, not really. Hey, thanks for not wearing tight pants,” I said, speaking the truth.

“What?” he laughed.

“I said thanks for not wearing tight pants. I thought I was going to throw up if I saw another guy in tight pants,” I responded.

“Ah. Yes, the tight pants don’t work for me. I personally don’t think they work for any guy, but don’t tell anyone in my band that I think that,” he continued.

“Why’d you tell me if you don’t want them to know? For all you know, I could be some bitter asshole who’s just waiting for an opportunity to make someone else’s life a little more difficult.”

“I can see you have the bitter asshole part down pat, but I doubt you’d do that to me,” he said.

I looked at him expectantly.

“You like my lips too much to do that.”

If I hadn’t liked his lips so much, I would’ve slapped the smug little grin right off his face. No, I wouldn’t have slapped it off. That’d have been too gay for me. I would’ve punched it out. I was even more horrified when he chuckled and just went back to sipping his Sprite, but it was too late for me to say anything because at that moment The Days Junes started playing their first song.

Knowing my cheeks were burning red, I turned back towards the stage and drained the last of my watery coke. Luckily, when the noise of The Days Junes had come the scene kids went back to the make-shift mosh-pit to think about how hard their suburban lives were while they got sweaty. I couldn’t wait for the 24-hour Chinese buffet.

While I considered whether or not to stay and talk to Chase, Sam, Trevor, or Jack and think about the maybe-scene boy with the great lips who might be watching me the whole time or just get right to the food, Chase and the boys rocked the crowd. I probably wasn’t being biased, they were pretty damn good. But, then again, after a year and a half if they hadn’t been this good I would’ve questioned their competence. But really, I knew I was going to shoot out of the door as soon as they finished in order to get away from sitting awkwardly next to this boy, I just liked to think that I was a little smoother than that.

So, finally, after ten minutes of sitting very self-consciously quiet, they were done. As soon as Jack, who was doing the lead singing tonight, said goodbye to the crowd I jumped up and was making my merry way out, thanking the gods that the night was cold.

Pushing my way through numerous conversations, I finally made it to the door. The night, as expected, was thankfully cold and dark. I was still sweating, so I didn’t bother with my jacket, just started my way south to China World. China World was a wonderfully cheap, un-authentic, unhealthy Chinese buffet. It was always open, just waiting to corrupt my seventeen year old body with its large amounts of calories and fat. Yes, I liked food. And yes, I am of those disgusting people who can eat anything and everything and never gain a pound. Probably because I refuse to buy a car and pay inordinate amounts of money for gas, I just walk everywhere or use the public transportation in this huge city with.

After a few minutes I started to shiver so I put on my coat, shoving my hands deep into the pockets. I walked fairly slowly, not in any kind of hurry now that I was away from the crammed atmosphere of the lounge. The night air was clear and cold and refreshing, exactly like any night in late October should be. Soon, I would be not only in the wonderful night air, but also filled to the gills with food and without a sense of time.

The time from the walk until I got to China World was uneventful. The streets were less crowded than they were in the day, so there was no shoving through people. China World wasn’t busy, so I immediately got a booth and was cramming food down my throat. My meal was just as boring as the walk had been, so I paid and walked out.

I don’t know what, but something about the night told me that it was far from over. Maybe I just didn’t want it to be, but either way I wasn’t about to head home. Hell, I was a golden boy everyday of the week. I deserved a day or two of delinquency. And all that meant for me was not going home until the wee hours of the morning without telling my rents where in all hell I was. Being seventeen, I felt I had a right for that, at least.

I let my feet lead, my mind occupying itself with various pointless thoughts. Like why, at seventeen, I’d never been on a date. Never been kissed, never been asked out, or dubbed as someone’s significant other. For me, life was a one man show. And I never could decide if I liked it better that way. I guess in my opinion, to decide if you like one thing over another, you have to have experienced both of the options. Having never experienced anything but singleton, somewhere deep inside me, in a place I usually ignored, I sort of longed to be dated. Or kissed, or liked, or asked out. I mean seriously, what seventeen year old who’s normal wouldn’t wonder what they were doing wrong when after seventeen years no one liked them? There were things I could think of, looks and personality being most of it.

In the looks department, I wasn’t doing too bad. I was fairly average, about 5’7, a little on the slim side. I had naturally coal black hair, slightly sun kissed skin, and blue eyes. My ears stuck out a little more than usual, but other than that I couldn’t say I was ugly. So, I always guessed it was my personality that drove people away. Granted, this was the effect I was going for, so I couldn’t really complain, but there are always times when I wish I was different, more likeable.

Before those thoughts got too far, I concentrated on where I was. I’d ended up in front of a run-down grocery store, and I was in the mood for Oreos. The lovely thing about huge cities is that most places are open for 24 hours, thus the grocery store was open and I got my Oreos. I couldn’t think of what to do after getting a dirty look from the cashier in the too-bright lights. I couldn’t see what was so wrong with buying Oreos at whatever time it was, so I just sat on the sidewalk outside and started to eat them.

Now, I’d never been one for romance novels, but I like to read a lot. And sometimes, only when I was really desperate, I would read a romance novel (or two, or 10, who’s counting?) that my mom had. And it seemed that in every one of them, there were these perfect situations. The girl would be in some dire predicament, and lo and behold, Mr. Hot Shot was there to rescue her. Or they’d keep meeting accidentally. Things like that had never happened to me, so I’d never believed that things like that actually did happen, they were just the vivid imaginations of the authors who had this screwed up view of love in their minds.

And then, just like in all those novels, as I sat all alone on a sidewalk in the middle of an almost-winter night, eating Oreos and contemplating my datelessness, Mr. Lips from the band before the Days Junes was standing in front of me giving me an expectant look.

When I noticed him there, I had half an Oreo hanging out of my mouth and could only hope the expression on my face wasn’t embarrassing. And I probably looked pretty desperate too. So I swallowed and decided that the only remedy would be to act as hostile as possible to the boy.

“Can I help you?”

“Will you be eating the entire bag of Oreos yourself, or do you need a little help?” the lips said. I was thinking that I really should get his name, just so I didn’t have to keep thinking of him as the lips. Then again, he just asked to have some of the Oreos I bought. It could’ve been worse though. He could’ve looked at me and laughed, or made out with someone in front of me, or something. But no, he offered to help eat a bag of Oreos that I surely wouldn’t have been able to finish. And with a face like that standing in front of me, regardless of whatever mass-produced poser clothes he was wearing, what was I going to do? Say no? Psh.

Hell, maybe it was because he’d come just as I was thinking of my datelessness. But, I motioned to the sidewalk next to me and offered the bag of Oreos when he sat down.

Luke

It was probably a really, really desperate thing for me to have done, but when I saw the boy who’d bolted after the Days Junes sitting on the sidewalk, my heart jumped a little. When he let me sit next to him and share his Oreos, I think my heart went ahead and started skipping every third beat.

I wasn’t really sure why, either. It wasn’t like he was some great beauty, not to say that he was ugly but he was pretty plain, and from our short conversation in the lounge, he hadn’t seemed to have that great of a personality. In fact, he seemed pretty mean. Or bitter, probably both but I couldn’t decide.

So anyways, I was sitting next to this mean, plain looking boy who apparently didn’t like boys in tight pants (or people in general, I was starting to think) eating Oreos and skipping every third heartbeat when I realized that I didn’t know his name. I didn’t want to freak him out, he could’ve been flighty. If he was, I didn’t want to scare him off. So let’s add freaking out to the list of things I was doing, when he calmed me down and asked first.

“So, do you have a name or something?” he asked, looking at me. It wasn’t the same expression as the sour one he’d had at the lounge, so I was taking that as a good sign. I chuckled a little before answering, just because that was kind of what I always did.

“Yeah, Luke. You?”

“Eddie.”

“Well, hello Eddie. How are you tonight?”

“You already asked that.”

“I know, but I’m hoping you’re a little better this time around.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I ate, I’m not sweaty and uncomfortable, and there’s no teenies. I’m positively giddy inside.”

“Really now?”

“Yes, very.”

It was silent for a few moments. I looked at him, his features illuminated in the fake lights of night, admiring the plain face and hair. And his hair was pretty ordinary, just black hair in a normal haircut, a little shaggy, as if he hadn’t gotten it cut in a good few weeks. It was simply combed, no style, no product, no flashy colors.

And then I did something stupid. I didn’t think about it, or plan or anything.

“Hey, will you be my boyfriend?” I asked, flicking a few strands of sweaty hair from my face. He- Eddie, I have to think of him as Eddie – looked at me funny.

“After knowing me for all of ten minutes?” he asked, disbelievingly. I nodded. He looked down at his bag of Oreos, and back at me. “Sure.”

As soon as I heard the word, I let out a huge breath. I could feel a goofy smile taking over my face, and I stole another Oreo from his bag.

Eddie

I don’t know what the fuck I just did.

Lips over here asked me to be his boyfriend. Granted, I was feeling desperate. And he is pretty hot. And… well, I guess I know why I said yes. But, I started thinking about it. I knew this guy for what, ten minutes? For all I knew, he was joking. He might not mean it; he may take this night from me and never see me again. We could spend every minute from now until dawn in magical, couple-y bliss, and then never speak to each other again.

I certainly hoped not, but people in general are flaky bitches. You can’t ever expect the best. But, I had a boyfriend, if only for then, and I was determined to make the best of it.

And then I yawned.

Lips- I guess I should start thinking of him as Luke- pulled out a cell phone.

“Hmm. It’s later than I thought it was. You tired?” He asked.

“Well, I wasn’t until you said it. I was trying to hide that fact from my body.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry about it. It was bound to happen soon, I just ate shit loads of food. This always happens. I guess I’m the epitome of fat ass,” I rambled, rubbing at one of my eyes. I was starting to feel cold, too.

“Ah… well, should you go home?” he asked. All this inquiring, so much sleepy.

“I really don’t want to,” I answered through another yawn.

“Well, where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere soft and warm.” He thought for a minute- at least that’s what I think he was doing- before he spoke again. In the meantime, I pulled my jacket around me tighter, feeling a shiver go down my spine.

“You want to go to my place?”

“Yeah, actually. Do we have to walk?” I whined.

“Nah, I’ll get a ride. Hold on,” he responded, flipping his phone open. He dialed a number, was silent while it rang, and smiled wide when whoever he called answered. I only heard his half of the conversation, and then he snapped it shut.

“We should be in a car, with a heater, pretty soon.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, resting my head on top of them. I think I was rocking back and forth slightly, but the tired-ness had hit me pretty fast. It was a Friday, so I’d been up since six a.m. and it was probably around the beginning of Saturday morning. I flipped my head over to watch Luke, his dark brown hair falling all in his face while he played with some of the pebbles on the asphalt. His kohl was still pretty smeared, but he didn’t seem to care. And I guess that made up for any of the things I’d counted against him earlier. Because with those lips, and that attitude, he was looking damn sexy.

Soon enough, an old black Toyota pulled up next to us and honked. Chuckling, Luke stood up and offered me a hand. I took it, noting how my hands were fairly smaller (and colder) than his. He helped me up, and for the first time I was able to compare height. Now, being 5’7, I wasn’t surprised when I only came up to his shoulders. I’m not saying I was happy about that fact, but I wasn’t surprised.

He led me to the back door of the car and opened it, motioning for me to slide over so he could get in. And, of course, in true romance novel fashion, someone was already sitting in the seat on the far side. I was left with the middle seat. The Beatles were playing on the radio, and the two occupants that weren’t the driver were sleeping. So, I settled into the seat, saw Luke settle into his, and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder.

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End! Of this chapter... Please review! And should I continue?