Flipping Coins

Ryan had eventually calmed me out of my delirium and somehow managed to soothe me into such a tranquil state that sleep actually came my way for about three good hours.

When I awoke, the left side of my face was stuck to the fabric of my pillow--a true sign that I had, indeed, been under a heavy sleep considering I’d actually produced drool. I washed the sticky remains of the dried saliva off in my bathroom before I stepped back into my bedroom.

Now that my vision was turned on full, it was only then that I took notice of the black skinny jeans and white tanktop placed upon the foot of my bed. I knew full well that I had not purposefully laid this peculiar combo out on my mattress for later use, because this was definitely something I would not wear together. Tanktops belonged under something, in my opinion.

So, curiously stepping closer to the outfit, my eyes found the tiny sticky note stuck to the top fringes of the skinny jeans, and my hand immediately reached forward to take hold of the puny letter.

In chicken scrawl writing, unmistakably Ryan’s, was written:

Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!
Wear this tonight to the dinner, and yes, you will go to the dinner.
I had to go run a quick errand, but I’ll be back to pick you up at around 7, so be ready.
Love you, Ryan.

For the record, before you go and get your panties twisted into a bunch, I was 106% positive that Ryan did not mean the loving part in any way other than the sibling, friendly type of affection. He knew that I was upset and purposefully chose those particular two last words to end with to offer some sort of comfort to my downtrodden world. So, basically, he was being the same sweet jackass as always.

I rolled my eyes and threw the scanty note across the room. But, being that it may that it was made out of paper and all; it only managed to soar a good foot or so before it landed peacefully back on the midsection of the white tanktop.

Scowling at the flimsy slit of paper, I turned away to scamper off into my darkened apartment, in search of something to tear my mind away from my day’s exciting schedule.

After I had paced for ten minutes or so along my apartment’s dead atmosphere, I finally lounged myself upon my living room’s loveseat and turned on the T.V. My eyes stared blankly at the America’s Next Top Model rerun, not bothering to follow the competitive plotline, or even the dryly humorous commercials popping up every now and then.

I won’t bother explaining what was going on inside the imprisonment of my skull, because there was way too much to explain. All I can tell you is that it mostly involved Brendon. Him and the dinner. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go. There was a hefty amount of cons outnumbering the number of pros to attending, but I knew Ryan wasn’t going to give up. So what I really should have been thinking about was the best way to handle the dinner, rather than if I was going to show up in the first place.

Somehow, time managed to sneak by like miniscule grains of sand slipping through my fingers, because before I knew it, my cellphone shrilly rang its custom AT&T ringtone. I stumbled to my feet and ran back into my room, searching wildly for the tiny, platinum device. At last, I spotted it jittering on the floor, next to my nightstand where it must have taken a nasty dive during one of its rounds of vibrations.

Scooping up its trembling form and cupping it to my ear, I quickly greeted whoever was on the other line by saying, ”Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie! You about ready to go?” Ryan’s voice exclaimed in response, way too overenthusiastic than usual.

I hesitantly eyed myself in the full length mirror hanging off my bathroom’s door. “Err…sorta?”

There was a pause. “Emie,” Ryan sighed, slight irritation seeping through his tone.

“Ryan,” I tried, an unsure essence of humor devouring my verbalization.

“Are you trying to make me do this the hard way? Because believe me, sister, I will go the hard way if necessary. I will not let you get past this one. You’re going to this dinner tonight, whether you like it or not.”

“But why,” I whined, “why do I have to go? What’s so wrong with not having the deep desire to dine with some pals just this one particular night?”

“What’s so wrong with wanting a best friend to see one off for two whole months?” Ryan asked with an equal toned, attitude holding voice.

I groaned, not making a further attempt to argue with Ryan’s unfaltering comebacks.

“So, are you getting ready because I’m about eight blocks away.”

“Yes,” I gruffly stated in a reluctant sense.

Hearing the smile baking onto Ryan’s face, he declared, “Great! I’ll be there soon. See ya, doll.”

The dial tone beat me to the punch of snapping at him for referring to me in such a way, and I tossed the phone aggressively onto my unmade bed. I didn’t want to go, but I could see that there was no way out of it. So, I grudgingly started to toss on clothes.

X……….X

“You actually have boobs?”

Shooting a contempt look at the stunned Jon, who Ryan had picked up from the airport a few hours before as an errand, I smoothed out the tanktop to try and obtain some composure--which had become the impossible the moment the thin shirt had slipped onto the top portion of my body.

Ryan let out a snicker as he punched Jon on the arm for his hilarious outburst. Jon, on the other hand, ignored Ryan’s blow and unsurpassed laughter as he continued to stare blankly at my chest, causing my face to redden even deeper than before.

I covered myself up and then finally snapped, “That’s it! I’m taking it off!”

Jon’s eyes, if possible, widened even more, while Ryan halted his laughter to send me a blank look.

“Oh my god. You guys are the biggest perves I’ve ever met,” I sighed in aggravation, the blush now reaching my neck at the thought of what my words had meant to them.

Not sparing them a moment to laugh, I turned my back on them and stomped indignantly back to my room to change.

Hearing Jon’s rumpus bellows from behind me, Ryan’s calls became clearer and clearer as his footsteps gained a faster tempo. He at last reached me just before my hand had gripped the doorknob to my bedroom.

“Emie!” Ryan shouted, a little breathless from the quick jog and laughter still trying to escape him. “Don’t you dare change!”

“And why the hell not?” I questioned loudly, whipping around to face him with nothing but anger bleeding through my expression.

Ryan stared at me for a moment, allowing the smile to grow upon his boyish face before he bluntly stated, “Because you’re hot.”

Before I could slam the door shut on Ryan, he pried the door open and pushed me out of my bedroom completely. Gripping my upper arm, Ryan towed me back to the living room where Jon was occupying himself by toying with his new Sidekick.

Gazing at me for a moment while biting his lip, Ryan finally brightened up as he exclaimed, “That’s what’s missing!”

Without invitation, Ryan zipped behind me and ripped out my ponytail--my long, untamable wavy hair immediately cascading down to rest against my back and along my shoulders.

Jon peered up at us casually, gazing without focus, and then looked back down at his Sidekick’s illuminated screen. Not a half second later, his eyes were back up on me, as wide as before.

“Holy shit!” Jon exclaimed, “Emie! You’re--you’re a fucking fox!”

Ryan relentlessly smiled at me with pride until I met his eyes. Once my pupils found his, he grinned and said, “My work here is done.”

I rolled my eyes at him and said, “Good, because there was no fucking way I was going to put on makeup.”