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Authors: Tara Sivec
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walk
through the doorway of the room, Carter turns and we make eye contact. I
suddenly don’t want to kill the two people behind me. Everything is
momentarily forgotten when I look at him.
I can do
this. Parents love me.
He excuses
himself from the discussion and hurries over to us, scooping Gavin up in his
arms and peppering his face with kisses. He reaches out and grabbed my hand to
pull me in close and place a soft kiss on my lips.
“Mmmmm. You
don’t taste like vomit and desperation anymore,” he whispers with a smirk as he
pulls his face away from mine.
“Remind me to
never drunk dial you again for a booty call,” I reply with mock irritation.
“Don’t worry,”
he says as he turns and pulls me over to his parents. “If that’s your idea of
a booty call, I’m never taking another call from you again at two in the
morning from the kitchen while you’re down the hall in the bedroom. My penis
can’t handle another rejection like that. Or should I say projection ?”
Drew and Jenny
start giggling behind us.
“Alright, get it
all out of your system now you guys. We are never, ever speaking of what
happened last night again. We all need to pretend like it never happened,” I
state firmly as Carter wraps his arm around my waist and hefts Gavin up higher.
“Yeah, about
that,” Drew says sheepishly, “you might want to check Facebook when you get a
free moment.”
My mouth dropped
open, and I could do nothing but stare at his back as he pushes us out of the
way and drags Jenny up to greet Madelyn and Charles and give them a hug. I
barely paid attention as Drew introduces Jenny to them. Before I know it, all
eyes are on me and Gavin.
“Say hello to
your grandparents, Gavin,” Carter prompts him.
“Hi, I’m Gavin.
When I’m ten I can drink beer and mow the lawn,” he states with a smile.
Nothing like
a little tension breaker.
“Well, isn’t
that sweet,” Madelyn says in a voice that clearly states it's anything but.
“It’s good to
finally meet you Clarissa,” Charles says distractedly as he stares at Jenny’s
ass when she bends over to pick up her lip gloss that she had dropped.
“Dad, it’s Claire ,”
Carter reminds him in a low voice, giving me an apologetic look.
As Gavin and I
are pulled in for impolite hugs and air kisses, all I can do is try and think
about what I may or may not have put on Facebook. The fact that I am pretty
sure Carter’s mother hated me on sight and his father is too busy ogling my
friend’s assets to get my name right doesn’t even touch a nerve. If I had put
a picture of my boobs on Facebook, I'd throw myself off of a bridge anyway, so
their judgments won’t matter.
Under normal
circumstances, I own who I am. I like to have fun and go crazy, occasionally,
and when that happens, it usually involves alcohol. I don’t drink and drive
and I don’t spend my money on hookers and crack. I don’t waste my paycheck
every week filling up entire shopping carts with bottles of Jack like Nicolas
Cage in Leaving Las Vegas , and sometimes my shenanigans are broadcast on
Facebook either by my own stupidity or by the stupidity of my friends.
Typically, this is only slightly embarrassing, and we would all have a good
laugh over it for months to come. However, in a moment of insanity a few days
ago, I had decided to friend-request Carter’s mother and a few other members of
his family on Facebook. I really should be supervised anytime I go near social
media. There should be an actual human being whose only job is to sit next to
me and say things like, “Do NOT post that,” and “You should seriously consider
removing your tag off of that picture,” or “No, dick does not rhyme with
delicious, and you are not good at poetry when you’re drunk, contrary to what
you’ve been told,” and “That comment sounds a lot better in your head than it
will under her picture. And that’s not how you spell cock sucking
through the doorway of the room, Carter turns and we make eye contact. I
suddenly don’t want to kill the two people behind me. Everything is
momentarily forgotten when I look at him.
I can do
this. Parents love me.
He excuses
himself from the discussion and hurries over to us, scooping Gavin up in his
arms and peppering his face with kisses. He reaches out and grabbed my hand to
pull me in close and place a soft kiss on my lips.
“Mmmmm. You
don’t taste like vomit and desperation anymore,” he whispers with a smirk as he
pulls his face away from mine.
“Remind me to
never drunk dial you again for a booty call,” I reply with mock irritation.
“Don’t worry,”
he says as he turns and pulls me over to his parents. “If that’s your idea of
a booty call, I’m never taking another call from you again at two in the
morning from the kitchen while you’re down the hall in the bedroom. My penis
can’t handle another rejection like that. Or should I say projection ?”
Drew and Jenny
start giggling behind us.
“Alright, get it
all out of your system now you guys. We are never, ever speaking of what
happened last night again. We all need to pretend like it never happened,” I
state firmly as Carter wraps his arm around my waist and hefts Gavin up higher.
“Yeah, about
that,” Drew says sheepishly, “you might want to check Facebook when you get a
free moment.”
My mouth dropped
open, and I could do nothing but stare at his back as he pushes us out of the
way and drags Jenny up to greet Madelyn and Charles and give them a hug. I
barely paid attention as Drew introduces Jenny to them. Before I know it, all
eyes are on me and Gavin.
“Say hello to
your grandparents, Gavin,” Carter prompts him.
“Hi, I’m Gavin.
When I’m ten I can drink beer and mow the lawn,” he states with a smile.
Nothing like
a little tension breaker.
“Well, isn’t
that sweet,” Madelyn says in a voice that clearly states it's anything but.
“It’s good to
finally meet you Clarissa,” Charles says distractedly as he stares at Jenny’s
ass when she bends over to pick up her lip gloss that she had dropped.
“Dad, it’s Claire ,”
Carter reminds him in a low voice, giving me an apologetic look.
As Gavin and I
are pulled in for impolite hugs and air kisses, all I can do is try and think
about what I may or may not have put on Facebook. The fact that I am pretty
sure Carter’s mother hated me on sight and his father is too busy ogling my
friend’s assets to get my name right doesn’t even touch a nerve. If I had put
a picture of my boobs on Facebook, I'd throw myself off of a bridge anyway, so
their judgments won’t matter.
Under normal
circumstances, I own who I am. I like to have fun and go crazy, occasionally,
and when that happens, it usually involves alcohol. I don’t drink and drive
and I don’t spend my money on hookers and crack. I don’t waste my paycheck
every week filling up entire shopping carts with bottles of Jack like Nicolas
Cage in Leaving Las Vegas , and sometimes my shenanigans are broadcast on
Facebook either by my own stupidity or by the stupidity of my friends.
Typically, this is only slightly embarrassing, and we would all have a good
laugh over it for months to come. However, in a moment of insanity a few days
ago, I had decided to friend-request Carter’s mother and a few other members of
his family on Facebook. I really should be supervised anytime I go near social
media. There should be an actual human being whose only job is to sit next to
me and say things like, “Do NOT post that,” and “You should seriously consider
removing your tag off of that picture,” or “No, dick does not rhyme with
delicious, and you are not good at poetry when you’re drunk, contrary to what
you’ve been told,” and “That comment sounds a lot better in your head than it
will under her picture. And that’s not how you spell cock sucking
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