David Melton

Story # 2 – Final Draft

Powder Your Nose and Act Professional

I'm lying on the hood of my Honda Civic and my friend, Alisha, is resting her head on my chest, pointing out all the different shapes the stars make and how she thinks each one is an angel looking down on us. I'm amused by this and take a drag of my cigarette, letting it burn into my lungs and then, exhaling, I say, "Yeah, no...I see the dog. It's cool." The night wind is biting extra hard, but she needs me tonight. Her boyfriend of a year, Gavin, broke up with her – she still has yet to tell me why. If I didn't care so much about her, I would have gone home a long time ago, but, instead, I deal with the cold and make sure she is warm.

"So what's the exact story?" I ask her, looking down at the top of her head as if this assures her I'm extra interested.

She buries herself a little deeper into my shirt and says, "Do you see that caterpillar?" Her finger points to a cluster of stars. All I see is a bowl of Cheerios but I say I see it and how awesome it is.

I was going to let her bring up the whole story of why they ended, but her silence is enough to let me know she wants me to ask again.

"So tell me the exact story. Do I need to kick his ass?" I take another drag of the cigarette and, for some reason, it makes me feel tough.

"You don't want to hear about it," she says. "It's a long story."

"Aren't they all?" I ask.

She points out a face in the stars and then says, "No. He just doesn't love me anymore. He's apparently found someone new." She hugs me a little tighter and says, "Love's funny that way. You live and learn."

I don't know what to say to her like I thought I would so I stay silent.

"See," she says in a lecturing tone. "I told you you wouldn't want to hear about it."

"No, it's not that. I just don't know what to say really." I feel like I let her down and I wish I could take back the words that just escaped my frozen lips.

As if she senses I feel bad, she says, "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. You know me...a trooper." She kisses my chest and says, "Thanks though. You're too sweet."

I toss my cigarette into the dry weeds surrounding my car and imagine how the whole area goes up in flames.

"What about you?" she asks. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?" She props her head up on my chest and looks at my face, which is still staring up towards the stars, tying to actually see all these shapes she has been pointing out.

"What's the point?" I ask. "I mean, I don't see how it's worth all the drama and heartache, but maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm missing out on something great and will never know it. I just haven't found that special someone."

"What about Carl?" she asks. "You guys dated for quite a while."

"He was a fling that lasted too long. I only went out with him to get over Rebecca." I light another cigarette and take a drag. Talking about past relationships always makes me tense. "I don't make a good boyfriend anyway. Bachelor for life," I say as I put my hand over my heart.

"You seem like the perfect boyfriend type," Alisha half whispers.

"Far from it," I say.

She lies her head back down on my chest and points out another shape, but I can't hear what she says because it gets muffled in my shirt. "I see it," I say, smiling for no reason.

I want to tell her I like her, but bite my lip. I don't want her thinking I'm just trying to take advantage of how vulnerable she is so I say, "You see that car over there?" but the stars I point to bear a closer resemblance to a corn dog.

"No. Sorry," she says. That's one of the things I like about her. She would never lie to make me feel better.

"So what are you going to do?" I ask her. "You're too cute to be single." I realize right away how much of a pick-up line that sounds like.

"Who knows," she says. "Be single for a while. Find out who I am." She nudges me in the side with her fist and says, "Maybe I should just date you." I'm shocked by this and don't say anything, thinking that, if I do, she will change her mind. She reacts to my non-reaction by laughing and saying, " I'm just kidding."

I'm crushed and let out a pathetic laugh, saying, "Oh...I know. Of course. I was just waiting for the punch line." I'm immediately jealous of every guy she's ever liked – including the ones I don't even know about.

"Honestly though, why haven't we dated?" I ask

"Us?" she says, as if I could have been referring to anyone else.

"Yeah," I say.

"I don't know...we have bad timing. I mean, last time you asked, I had just started dating Gavin. And now...well, yeah, now all this is happening."

"Good point," I say.

"Do you see the house?" she asks, pointing, once again, to another group of stars.

I smile and say, "Yeah, looks cozy."

She asks me what I'm doing tomorrow night – a Friday – and I tell her I have nothing planned.

"There's a party at Jenna's. You want to go?" She props herself up and I pretend her elbows digging into my chest doesn't hurt.

"Yeah, sounds awesome," I tell her.

She says, "Good."

I end up driving her back to her house and she jumps out, turns around, smiles and says, "See you at the party tomorrow night." Blowing a kiss, she shuts the door and I watch as she walks inside her house.

When I pull up to Jenna's house, I check myself in the rearview mirror and mess up my hair that took me a half hour to style – I don't want Alisha to think I'm trying too hard to impress her. I'm a little nervous so I smoke a cigarette to calm my nerves.

Walking up to the door, it opens after only one knock and a girl I recognize from English class freshman year is laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing as she puts a lei around my neck and kisses me on the cheek. "Welcome to the party," she says as she drags me to the middle of the room where everyone's dancing to the shitty music playing on the sound system. I can't dance but I make an exception.

Her drunk friend comes up after a minute and they start whispering into each other's ear and then giggling. The music is so loud I can't hear what they're saying to me so I smile a lot and nod my head. They laugh every once in a while and I figure they're asking me things like, " Are you gay?" and, not being able to hear them, I smile and nod. Who cares. They're boring me and I think I might be boring them too because, after a bit, they start making out with each other, completely ignoring me. I quickly make my way to the beer in the kitchen.

Grabbing a Coors out of the fridge, I spot Alisha who's wearing a blue tank top and jeans. She's talking to some guy I've never seen before. He's probably telling her how he's on the football team and, after practice, all the guys whip each other with wet towels. I imagine him saying, "Yeah, I still have a red mark on my ass cheek." I don't like him.

Alisha sees me looking at them and gives the guy a goodbye smile and walks over to me. "You made it," she says as she gives me a hug, nearly pouring her drink down the back of my shirt.

"Yeah," I yell, battling the volume of the music. "I had nothing else to do and I figured I'd show up and see if there was anyone hot here." She backs up, as if I need a better view, and I give her a thumbs up, drinking the rest of the beer I had started.

"So you come here often?" I ask her.

She smiles and yells in my ear, "Why don't we skip the flirting and go straight to the bedroom?" I almost take her seriously until she laughs, leans in and says, "I'm gonna' go talk to that guy over there." She points towards a guy who is sitting with a group of people that look like they spend all their time writing their failed novels at Starbucks. I'm instantly turned off by her taste in men.

"Have fun," I say, fighting my jealousy.

Not wanting to stand around by myself, I go and sit on a beanless bean bag chair that's in the corner of the room and, after trying to find a comfortable position, I give up and find comfort where there is none. I pull out one of the two joints I have in the side pocket of my jeans and light it.

Letting my gaze drift across the room, I see a brunette model-type girl talking to a beach blonde surfer with a fake tan and they seem to be enjoying the shitty techno music that's playing. I don't know why they interest me but I watch as she is talking non-stop and the guy just keeps nodding his head in agreement. Every couple of minutes, she tosses her hair behind her shoulders and then searches his eyes to see if he so much as glances at her tits.

I feel someone watching me watch them and I look to my left – a redhead is standing underneath a speaker and stirring her mixed drink with her index finger. She smiles. I smile.

I look back to the model and the surfer and see them stand up and walk towards one of the back rooms. He isn't going to tell her he has a girlfriend and she isn't going to tell him she has chlamydia – all's fair in love and war.

I didn't realize the redhead had walked over until she was standing right next to me.

"Can I help you?" I ask. I look down at her feet – I don't know why – and realize she has a toe ring... cliche'.

"I didn't see you come in," she says.

"Why would you have?" I ask.

She didn't answer the question, she just kept saying how I came in unnoticed and asked, "Who do you know here?"

"A lot of people, but my friend Alisha invited me." I take a hit of my joint.

"Alisha, Alisha, Alisha...was she the girl you were talking to in the kitchen earlier?."

I wonder how long she has been watching me and say, "Yeah."

"Oh...I don't think I know her," she says.

"Don't worry, you don't need to," I tell her. "It wouldn't change anything."

I look over to where Alisha is and she's laughing at everything that prick is saying. He's probably making a joke about Lennie from "Of Mice and Men" or saying how he thinks Holden Caulfield's a bitch. It makes me sick that she's actually feeding this guy's ego by laughing at his jokes. I want to strangle the bastard with his scarf.

I watch as they both stand up to leave. Alisha sees me and, before she walks out the front door, mouths, "She looks hot." It's either that or, "Take some shots." I can't tell. I don't really care. I'm jealous. I'm about to make a mistake but feel completely justified.

"How drunk are you?" I ask the redhead, who's now sitting on the floor next to me.

She laughs and says, "Let's just say I shouldn't drive home." She rubs my arm and then lets her hand drop down to the inner part of my leg and asks, "How drunk are you?"

She smiles. I smile. She's not going to tell me she's blown almost every guy in this room and I'm not going to tell her I have too.

The next thing I know, I'm walking through a bedroom door that has a colored Precious Moments picture on it and says "By Carli" on the bottom right corner. The redhead is right behind me and she doesn't close the door. I won't go into details about what went on because , whenever you go to bed with a stranger, it's always the same : they promise you things you've never even thought of before and then, when you get them into bed, they tell you they've only done it one other time.

Afterwards, I'm lying there, thinking of Alisha and how she was probably confusing that prick with her topics of choice. Either that or he was making her laugh by saying Oscar Wilde took it up the ass and then turned his experiences into some of the greatest man-woman love stories ever told. I hate that fucker and hope he has a small penis.

I smoke the other joint I had and wonder when a good time is to tell this girl to never call me. She keeps trying to cuddle up next to me and I finally get irritated and whisper, "My girlfriend wouldn't like that." If you want to see a girl get dressed and leave in record-setting time, mention a significant other.

As she shuts the door behind her and the music is muffled, I finally hear my cell phone beeping. I reach down and grab it from my pants and see that it's a text message. It's Alisha. It said, "This guy's a bore. He wanted to smoke a cigarette with me and get some fresh air, but he won't stop talking about the novel he's writing. I wish we were somewhere else. Just you and me."

Have you ever realized how guys fuck everything up on account of their penis? I'm no different than any other guy I've ever hated.

The door to the room opens back up and Alisha is standing there, looking at me lying naked in the bed. I guess the redhead told her where I was and that I had just cheated on her. The music is so loud and Alisha says, "You're not as special as I thought you were." It was either that or, "You're pathetic. You can have her." Either way, she shut the door and will probably never talk to me again. Eat your heart out, Oscar Wilde.