Flipping Coins

It was a strange feeling.

It was a curious little tickle against my upper arm. I think I might have even giggled a little in my sleep at how tingly the feeling was.

Then it reached my neck. I was devilishly ticklish on my neck.

So, naturally, I reached up and tried to sweep whatever the source was away. As soon as I did, though, something instantly felt wrong. But two seconds after this newsflash, it was too late.

A piercing sting struck deep into my neck, pain surging past my skin, into my flesh. Pushing out of my frozen cowardly state, adrenaline shot through me, and I was up in one second, out of my room in two.

Pacing my hallway, I thought of what to do. I had two options:
1) Go back in there and show that insect whose boss by pulling out a can of 100% Whip-Ass. (AKA Raid)
Or 2) Squeal like a little girl and continue my interrupted sleep on the couch, putting off the exterminating job until Brendon came.

Umm…decision made.

Cuddling deeper into my loveseat’s too-fluffy cushions, I let out a content sigh.

Now, where were we, Sleep? Oh, yeah….

Passed out, I allowed my imagination to stretch out before me. My dreams excluded any odd ticklish feelings that didn’t feel comfortable, along with the pestering insects that liked to deprive the human race of beauty sleep.

X……..X

“Godammit,” I muttered, gritting my teeth.

Another something was crawling along my back. That damn déjà vu was creeping up on me like an invisible bubble, entrapping my brain with the haunting of what had happened not even a few hours ago. You know, the little insect mishap that I had tried to ward away from my sweet dreams?

Then the crawling stopped right on my neck. A-freakin-gain.

Screaming, I slapped at my neck and back, darting to my feet. Spinning in circles across my living room in a frenzy of fright, I shook my t-shirt, forcing the bug to get out of my clothes and away from exploring my body.

Once I was sure that there was no chance in hell that the bug could still be attached to my body, I calmed down and ceased my balderdash twirling. After running my fingers through my hair and scanning the room with wide eyes, I sighed with relief and slackened my posture.

That’s when I heard a tiny, tiny, tiny snort sounding from behind me.

Turning, I stared with disbelief at the snickering person sitting in one of my recliners before me.

Brendon’s eyes were actually watering from all of the laughter his lungs were putting out! He attempted to cover up his cackles by putting both of his hands up to incase his lips, but muffled shrieks still escaped his fingers’ confinement. After he had clutched his gut four more times, slapped the recliner’s armrest seven more times, rocked back and forth 50 gazillion more times, and wiped his eyes clean, Brendon finally relaxed.

Sighing heavily, Brendon giggled. “I can’t believe I was able to watch that. I am the luckiest man alive.”

I took an intimidating step forward. “Your brain must seriously be whacked up if you think that a man incapable of having kids due to the lack of a certain reproductive organ is lucky.”

Brendon’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t,” he gasped, self-consciously placing a hand on his inner thigh.

“Oh would I!” I exclaimed, taking another step forward. “You just wait. The second I hear this story from another human being’s lips that isn’t present in this room right now, expect a fatal future for B-den Junior. Fatal. ”

Brendon eyed me, unsure if I was being serous or not, but then, getting the point that I was dead-ass serious, he nodded and said quickly, “Don’t worry! I swear I won’t tell a soul. Not even a dead soul. God is my witness.”

“That’s right,” I stated, turning to go and sit back down on the loveseat where the incident occurred.

Brendon grinned, reclining back into the rickety chair. Arms behind his head, feet outstretched, Brendon’s grin widened as he said nonchalantly, “Soo, can I ask you a quick question, Emie?”

I sent him a questioning glare before I began to pick at my fingernails. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

Rolling his eyes, Brendon just smiled bigger. “Another question?”

“Whatever. Go for it, I guess.”

“Ok, so, um…what was that about?”

Sighing, I concentrated extra-hard on my nails in order to avoid Brendon’s interested stare. “If you must know, there was a bug on my back.”

“No there wasn’t,” denied Brendon, his tone serious once more.

I looked up at him. “Umm, yeah there was.”

Brendon shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “No, there wasn’t, Em. I’ve been here for the past fifteen minutes, and I saw no such bug.”

“Well, it’s not like you were purposefully searching for a bug crawling on me. And in case you didn’t already know this, bugs aren’t exactly heavyset creatures, Bren. It is possible that you could have missed it.” I went back to picking my nails, trying not to smirk.

But he wouldn’t give up.

“But…isn’t it logical to say that I most likely would have seen it fall off of you when you were doing that crazy dance number in front of me?” Before I could prove him wrong once more, Brendon continued, “And besides, I know for a fact that it was your hair you were feeling.” He gave me a proud, confident look.

“Prove it,” I dared.

“Ok,” Brendon accepted happily, as though he had planned on me saying this. “But, before I do, you should probably take your hair out of your shirt. It’s kind of still tucked in there. It’s been bugging me ever since I’ve been here.”

I sighed with annoyance, but complied, beginning to snatch up the bundle of hair that was trapped inside the back of my t-shirt. Then it hit me.

Brendon caught my expression, and his laughter broke out abruptly. But he had it covered within half a second, because he caught the enraged gleam in my eye.

He quickly changed the subject. “So, you should probably get dressed now. We better get going here soon. Breakfast doesn’t wait around for us, you know.” He tried to say it without laughing, but I could tell he was about to explode any minute now.

I got to my feet with a straight face and said in monotone, ”Right, well, I’ll be out soon.” With that being said, I wounded back to the hallway, to my room.

As soon as I shut the door, Brendon’s laughter broke out again.

Storming to my dresser, I gritted my teeth and muttered, “Jackass.”

X……………X

“Are we there yet?” I groaned like an immature child. My face was pressed up to the car’s window, eyes darting to observe the unfamiliar, passing scenery.

“Patience is a virtue,” Brendon said in response, as if that could ease my intense desire to know where the hell I was headed to.

Sighing, I watched the spew of fog that expelled out of my nose evaporate upon the glass surface. Then I sat back in my chair the right way, changing the song to find one I actually knew the words to.

“Hey! Watch it, Sticky Fingers!” Brendon exclaimed, his eyes wide at my flickering fingers, which were flipping through songs at lightening-speed. “I liked that song!”

“Well, I didn’t,” I responded snootily. “Ah! Now here’s a good one!”

Incubus’s Anna Molly began with the guitar’s uproarious melody. I had successfully found a song I knew and, incidentally, loved.

Brendon sighed. “Well, this one is good too. But from now on, it will be a common rule that I, and I only, am the only D.J in this here vicinity.”

I acted as though I didn’t hear him (which is as impossible as it gets considering that Brendon has a loud, obnoxious voice that would put Howler monkeys to shame), and hummed along with Brandon Boyd. I could see in my peripheral vision that Brendon was shooting me an annoyed look, but I just tapped my hands against my knee and kept my eyes staring straight forward.

Just when Anna Molly began to come to an end, Brendon asked, “Hey Emie, guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re here!” he cried cheerily.

My eyes broke out of their dazed, unfocused daydream with door handle to scan our surroundings. We were parked in someone’s driveway, in a nice, cute little neighborhood.

The house in front of us was two-story and absolutely adorable. The grass was lush, cut, and filled with tons of tiny multicolored flowers, hedges were set along the house’s walls, and a brand new swing set was set up in the front yard, a sign that a child inhabited this territory.

I wounded back to Brendon. “And where exactly is ‘here?’”

Brendon smiled, but before he could answer, a squeal of delight sounded from in front of us. We both turned to see a brunette woman racing towards us, her brown eyes filled with growing tears. She was smiling, perfected teeth gleaming in the hot sun. I recognized her at once.

“Breeeeedoooooon!!!!!” she cried, scurrying to his car door.

Brendon casted me a sly sideways smile at my bewildered expression before he hopped out of the car. The woman nearly tackled him with hugs, but he merely laughed and said, “I’ve missed you too, mom.”

Sighing, I reluctantly followed Brendon’s lead and got out of the car.

It took a while until Brendon’s mom, Mindy, finally pried herself off of him, but when she did, she began to sob hysterically, “My little boy! Where have you been? I’ve missed you so much! How are your friends? How is this girl you’ve told me about? Evelia is her name, right….“ she trailed off when her great, brown eyes found my own.

“Hi, Mrs. Urie,” I greeted as politely as I could manage, giving her a shy smile.

In response, she arched her eyebrows downward and said with as much aggravation as her vocal cords could muster, “Hello, Emie.”

She never did like me.