Just Hate Me and We'll End It Here
A Threesome
Bailey
Alex makes good coffee so I could probably learn to love him for that. As in really good coffee. After my second cup, he informed me of his secret- early in the mornings is when almost anything sounds good, but playing around with foods, you eventually get the right thing together, and its just perfect.
We sit on opposite ends of the couch. I tuck my feet up, enjoying my coffee because I’m sort of chilled. Alex is on the corner, one foot one the couch, the other on the table, arms out and very relaxed.
“Are we going to do anything?” I ask finally. “This is pretty dull.”
He chuckles. “You’re right. But when you’re working all day, small moments like this get to be pretty nice.” He sits up. “So, what do you want to do? Oh, play video games?” His eyes brighten.
“You’re such a kid,” I mutter. “And I’ve only ever played James Bond and Guitar Hero.”
“Cool, I got those,” Alex nods furiously and pulls out Guitar Hero III. He hands me a completely white V guitar and the game is turned on. “What do you play?”
“Medium,” I admit. “I’ve never gotten very good.”
He grins. “Cool, I can finally cream you in something.” Chuckling, he clicks the last buttons and the game turns on as he picks some random song that neither of us really knows.
Five minutes later, I’m glaring at Alex. He stares at me, confused. “What?” He asks defensively. “Usually people who win are happier, you know.”
“People usually win because their opponents try harder,” I say, staring hard. “You totally let me win on purpose!”
“Everyone likes winning! Don’t you?”
“Yeah- honestly!” I snap. “I don’t like it when people let me win!”
“But- I just got caught up in watching you,” he complains.
“Rematch,” I growl. “And you better try.”
“But what if you win honestly?” He points out.
Eh. He’s got me there. “We’ll see about that,” I mutter, and put the guitar strap back over my head. “Now choose a better song, and play a little better.”
And… it’s a tie. “Not bad,” Alex nods in agreement.
“My fingers hurt,” I grumble. “I’m done with that.” And I sit back down, finishing the last of my coffee. Yum…
“So… I’m curious,” he admits, sitting back down to look at me evenly. “If you like to dance ballroom and all that, why do you still usually listen to other stuff?”
I contemplate on the answer, not even thinking about lying or really being sarcastic. “Because… dancing’s a part of my past, I guess. It’s gone, and I don’t plan on bringing it back. It distracted me when I needed it. I keep the music, just in case. But I prefer music like Blink and Slipknot and all that, because…” I shrug. “It’s easier to be angry, perhaps.”
“True,” he admits. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right,” he points out for me.
“Sometimes it might be,” I stick my chin out. “Sometimes it’s what you need to hold on.”
“Hold on to what? Why?” He asks, oblivious.
Oblivious to all of my past…
I sigh, shaking my head and standing. “Forget it. Ignore me. It’s nothing.”
“Wait, no,” Alex says hastily, leaning forwards. “I- I mean… it hasn’t been two hours yet,” he reminds me a little weakly. “If I promise not to ask, will you stay?”
I set the mug on the counter as Georgie scratches on the back door. I let him in and glance at Alex. “Fine, I guess. Have anything else to do?”
“Yep,” he nods furiously. “A threesome! You, me, and Michael Bublé. Dance floor, yeah?”
I stare at him blankly, uncomprehending… wait a minute. Is he serious? “You… want to learn to dance?” I cock my head at him, wondering if I’m getting it right.
He shrugs like an innocent kid. “You never know. A waltz could come in handy, after all.” He beams at me like a kid. “You grab the music and I’ll move the furniture?”
I contemplate it for a minute, and then sigh. “Fine, I guess.” Grudgingly, I head up to my bedroom, pulling out my CD player and finding just the right CD… yes, I do own all of his. And several other types, including Rod Stewart and Frank Sinatra. It’s my secret sin, you could say, all this music. Even Missy doesn’t know much about this stuff.
“Okay,” I call, coming down the stairs. “Ready?”
Coming down, I look at the room in surprise. He’s got a hardwood floor in the two connecting rooms, so that’ll help. But he’s moved the kitchen table and chairs farther back, as with the couch and coffee table. Plenty of space.
“More than ever,” Alex grins, jumping off the couch. “Now, what do I do?”
I sigh. Well, might as well begin now.
Alex makes good coffee so I could probably learn to love him for that. As in really good coffee. After my second cup, he informed me of his secret- early in the mornings is when almost anything sounds good, but playing around with foods, you eventually get the right thing together, and its just perfect.
We sit on opposite ends of the couch. I tuck my feet up, enjoying my coffee because I’m sort of chilled. Alex is on the corner, one foot one the couch, the other on the table, arms out and very relaxed.
“Are we going to do anything?” I ask finally. “This is pretty dull.”
He chuckles. “You’re right. But when you’re working all day, small moments like this get to be pretty nice.” He sits up. “So, what do you want to do? Oh, play video games?” His eyes brighten.
“You’re such a kid,” I mutter. “And I’ve only ever played James Bond and Guitar Hero.”
“Cool, I got those,” Alex nods furiously and pulls out Guitar Hero III. He hands me a completely white V guitar and the game is turned on. “What do you play?”
“Medium,” I admit. “I’ve never gotten very good.”
He grins. “Cool, I can finally cream you in something.” Chuckling, he clicks the last buttons and the game turns on as he picks some random song that neither of us really knows.
Five minutes later, I’m glaring at Alex. He stares at me, confused. “What?” He asks defensively. “Usually people who win are happier, you know.”
“People usually win because their opponents try harder,” I say, staring hard. “You totally let me win on purpose!”
“Everyone likes winning! Don’t you?”
“Yeah- honestly!” I snap. “I don’t like it when people let me win!”
“But- I just got caught up in watching you,” he complains.
“Rematch,” I growl. “And you better try.”
“But what if you win honestly?” He points out.
Eh. He’s got me there. “We’ll see about that,” I mutter, and put the guitar strap back over my head. “Now choose a better song, and play a little better.”
And… it’s a tie. “Not bad,” Alex nods in agreement.
“My fingers hurt,” I grumble. “I’m done with that.” And I sit back down, finishing the last of my coffee. Yum…
“So… I’m curious,” he admits, sitting back down to look at me evenly. “If you like to dance ballroom and all that, why do you still usually listen to other stuff?”
I contemplate on the answer, not even thinking about lying or really being sarcastic. “Because… dancing’s a part of my past, I guess. It’s gone, and I don’t plan on bringing it back. It distracted me when I needed it. I keep the music, just in case. But I prefer music like Blink and Slipknot and all that, because…” I shrug. “It’s easier to be angry, perhaps.”
“True,” he admits. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right,” he points out for me.
“Sometimes it might be,” I stick my chin out. “Sometimes it’s what you need to hold on.”
“Hold on to what? Why?” He asks, oblivious.
Oblivious to all of my past…
I sigh, shaking my head and standing. “Forget it. Ignore me. It’s nothing.”
“Wait, no,” Alex says hastily, leaning forwards. “I- I mean… it hasn’t been two hours yet,” he reminds me a little weakly. “If I promise not to ask, will you stay?”
I set the mug on the counter as Georgie scratches on the back door. I let him in and glance at Alex. “Fine, I guess. Have anything else to do?”
“Yep,” he nods furiously. “A threesome! You, me, and Michael Bublé. Dance floor, yeah?”
I stare at him blankly, uncomprehending… wait a minute. Is he serious? “You… want to learn to dance?” I cock my head at him, wondering if I’m getting it right.
He shrugs like an innocent kid. “You never know. A waltz could come in handy, after all.” He beams at me like a kid. “You grab the music and I’ll move the furniture?”
I contemplate it for a minute, and then sigh. “Fine, I guess.” Grudgingly, I head up to my bedroom, pulling out my CD player and finding just the right CD… yes, I do own all of his. And several other types, including Rod Stewart and Frank Sinatra. It’s my secret sin, you could say, all this music. Even Missy doesn’t know much about this stuff.
“Okay,” I call, coming down the stairs. “Ready?”
Coming down, I look at the room in surprise. He’s got a hardwood floor in the two connecting rooms, so that’ll help. But he’s moved the kitchen table and chairs farther back, as with the couch and coffee table. Plenty of space.
“More than ever,” Alex grins, jumping off the couch. “Now, what do I do?”
I sigh. Well, might as well begin now.
♠ ♠ ♠
....:D