Not Just Any Whatsername
The Aftermath, Part Two
Tre Cool stepped into the shower, allowing the jets of hot water to calm him and sooth the tense muscles in his back. What did I do last night? He wondered, leaning against the cool shower tiles. Why did I allow myself to get so drunk? Why did I sleep with someone else? Why? WHY? The worst thing was, this time; he couldn't get the chick out of his head.
"Oi!! Loser!!" He heard the oh-so dulcet tones of Billie Joe as he pounded the bathroom door. "Hurry up in there!! Some of us need to pee!!!"
Tre groaned as he let the water flow over his head, drenching his hair. Billie had a knack for interrupting him in the bathroom at the most inappropriate times. "Go and mark your territory outside!" he said, slightly raising his voice to be heard above the spray.
He sat down on the edge of the shower, trying to will away his headache and his thoughts. He hated hangovers, although they were the consequence of one of his favourite hobbies. Tre ran his hand over his stomach and sighed. He needed coffee, he needed sleep and he had an urge to find the girl, but he knew that was pretty unlikely.
Is she a Green Day fan? Is that the only reason she slept with me? Tre wondered as he soaped his hair. Was I the one being used? He wasn't used to this feeling. He didn't like being confused over his emotions. Especially emotions over a woman.
Billie Joe had resumed his banging on the door, so Tre had to cease his thinking. He turned the taps until the water stopped. He grabbed the towel he had brought with him and wrapped it around his waist. He opened the door and almost walked into Billie, who had his fist up in mid-knock.
"Finally!!!!" Billie exclaimed.
Tre groaned. His head was still pounding. "Shut up Bill." He said, his hand going to his head.
Billie ignored him and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. As the door made contact with the frame, Tre jumped and squeezed his eyes shut. Billie never had any compassion for him when he had a hangover.
Tre stumbled into his room and collapsed on his bed. He needed to be alone, he needed to think. He buried his head in his pillow and breathed in its pungent smell. He winced. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked at it. It was covered in black, from the nights he had gone to bed without removing his eyeliner. The drummer lowered his head again and smelt the pillows and the sheets. Again, he winced. They really needed to be changed. Fuck it. It can wait, he thought to himself.
He rolled onto his back and began to think. Why is it so hard this time? Why is it so hard to forget about this one? For him, it was usually easy to forget his drunken mistakes, but this time, he couldn't. He could remember almost every detail about her. He could remember the way she smiled, the way her lips curved. He could remember the way she laughed, the way it made him feel at ease. He could remember her eyes, the way they had seemed to captivate him, hypnotize him. He could remember the way she kissed, the way he felt like melting. Shit Tre!! He said to himself, Strap on a pair and push her out of your mind! You are Tre Cool. You do NOT make attachments to humans other than Billie and Mike! Now, get dressed, go outside and do something useful, like washing your sheets.
He again groaned to himself. He was crazy. He was talking to himself. He was ARGUING with his CONCIENCE! His headache had come back. He started mumbling to himself as he headed towards his wardrobe. "Now," he said to himself, "You are just feeling the after-effects of one too many bad beers and half a bottle of tequila." With that he nodded and reached into his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Putting them on, he reached over and fumbled around for a pair of shoes in the mess on his wardrobe floor. Slipping them on, he walked out the door, into the lounge room, where Billie Joe and Mike were sitting.
As he entered, Billie looked up from the guitar he was tuning. "So Tre, are you going to be a little friendlier with the dispensing details?" he said, grinning.
Tre laughed. "Uh, no." he said, his smile broadening. "That's for me to know and you NOT to find out." The drummer let his body collapse on the lounge, picking up the remote and aiming it at the T.V; changing the channel from the once Mike had been staring intently at.
"Hey!" Mike yelled out in protest.
"Mike, shut up. Some of us are watching Skating with Celebrities." Tre said, eyes not wavering from the television.
"Yeah, coz THAT makes you sounds a lot more masculine." Billie Joe said, sniggering.
Tre didn't utter a word, but felt around beside him and picked up a shoe that was sitting in the crack between the wall and the lounge. He then threw it at Billie and returned his gaze to the television.
Half an hour later, when the program had finished, Tre looked over at Billie and Mike, who were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. "Billie," he said, swallowing the excess amount of saliva that had built up in his mouth, "I am allowing you three questions about what happened with me last night. Only three and nothing too kinky."
The singer stopped in the middle of attacking Mike's 'scissors' with his 'rock'. "You're being serious?" he asked, eyes almost bugging out.
"Yes. Now hurry and ask the questions before I change my mind." Billie's eyes narrowed in concentration and he leant into the back of the couch. Five minutes later, he sat up straight and looked at Tre. "Ok, question one: Was it good? I mean it was drunken sex, so it had to be pretty good, but was it really good?" his eyes were wide with anticipation.
Tre smirked, mentally making a note to never give Billie this kind of permission again. "Yes, it was good. Very good." He replied, raising his eyebrow as he said the latter part of that sentence.
"Two: What was her name?" Tre picked up a drumstick he had seen and began twirling it in his fingers. "Her name was Alex." He said in an almost bored voice, though they could see he was more interested than he let on.
"And, the big number three: Are you going to see her again?"
This time, Tre took his time answering. At long last, he broke his gaze from the drumstick.
"I hope so."
"Oi!! Loser!!" He heard the oh-so dulcet tones of Billie Joe as he pounded the bathroom door. "Hurry up in there!! Some of us need to pee!!!"
Tre groaned as he let the water flow over his head, drenching his hair. Billie had a knack for interrupting him in the bathroom at the most inappropriate times. "Go and mark your territory outside!" he said, slightly raising his voice to be heard above the spray.
He sat down on the edge of the shower, trying to will away his headache and his thoughts. He hated hangovers, although they were the consequence of one of his favourite hobbies. Tre ran his hand over his stomach and sighed. He needed coffee, he needed sleep and he had an urge to find the girl, but he knew that was pretty unlikely.
Is she a Green Day fan? Is that the only reason she slept with me? Tre wondered as he soaped his hair. Was I the one being used? He wasn't used to this feeling. He didn't like being confused over his emotions. Especially emotions over a woman.
Billie Joe had resumed his banging on the door, so Tre had to cease his thinking. He turned the taps until the water stopped. He grabbed the towel he had brought with him and wrapped it around his waist. He opened the door and almost walked into Billie, who had his fist up in mid-knock.
"Finally!!!!" Billie exclaimed.
Tre groaned. His head was still pounding. "Shut up Bill." He said, his hand going to his head.
Billie ignored him and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. As the door made contact with the frame, Tre jumped and squeezed his eyes shut. Billie never had any compassion for him when he had a hangover.
Tre stumbled into his room and collapsed on his bed. He needed to be alone, he needed to think. He buried his head in his pillow and breathed in its pungent smell. He winced. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked at it. It was covered in black, from the nights he had gone to bed without removing his eyeliner. The drummer lowered his head again and smelt the pillows and the sheets. Again, he winced. They really needed to be changed. Fuck it. It can wait, he thought to himself.
He rolled onto his back and began to think. Why is it so hard this time? Why is it so hard to forget about this one? For him, it was usually easy to forget his drunken mistakes, but this time, he couldn't. He could remember almost every detail about her. He could remember the way she smiled, the way her lips curved. He could remember the way she laughed, the way it made him feel at ease. He could remember her eyes, the way they had seemed to captivate him, hypnotize him. He could remember the way she kissed, the way he felt like melting. Shit Tre!! He said to himself, Strap on a pair and push her out of your mind! You are Tre Cool. You do NOT make attachments to humans other than Billie and Mike! Now, get dressed, go outside and do something useful, like washing your sheets.
He again groaned to himself. He was crazy. He was talking to himself. He was ARGUING with his CONCIENCE! His headache had come back. He started mumbling to himself as he headed towards his wardrobe. "Now," he said to himself, "You are just feeling the after-effects of one too many bad beers and half a bottle of tequila." With that he nodded and reached into his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Putting them on, he reached over and fumbled around for a pair of shoes in the mess on his wardrobe floor. Slipping them on, he walked out the door, into the lounge room, where Billie Joe and Mike were sitting.
As he entered, Billie looked up from the guitar he was tuning. "So Tre, are you going to be a little friendlier with the dispensing details?" he said, grinning.
Tre laughed. "Uh, no." he said, his smile broadening. "That's for me to know and you NOT to find out." The drummer let his body collapse on the lounge, picking up the remote and aiming it at the T.V; changing the channel from the once Mike had been staring intently at.
"Hey!" Mike yelled out in protest.
"Mike, shut up. Some of us are watching Skating with Celebrities." Tre said, eyes not wavering from the television.
"Yeah, coz THAT makes you sounds a lot more masculine." Billie Joe said, sniggering.
Tre didn't utter a word, but felt around beside him and picked up a shoe that was sitting in the crack between the wall and the lounge. He then threw it at Billie and returned his gaze to the television.
Half an hour later, when the program had finished, Tre looked over at Billie and Mike, who were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. "Billie," he said, swallowing the excess amount of saliva that had built up in his mouth, "I am allowing you three questions about what happened with me last night. Only three and nothing too kinky."
The singer stopped in the middle of attacking Mike's 'scissors' with his 'rock'. "You're being serious?" he asked, eyes almost bugging out.
"Yes. Now hurry and ask the questions before I change my mind." Billie's eyes narrowed in concentration and he leant into the back of the couch. Five minutes later, he sat up straight and looked at Tre. "Ok, question one: Was it good? I mean it was drunken sex, so it had to be pretty good, but was it really good?" his eyes were wide with anticipation.
Tre smirked, mentally making a note to never give Billie this kind of permission again. "Yes, it was good. Very good." He replied, raising his eyebrow as he said the latter part of that sentence.
"Two: What was her name?" Tre picked up a drumstick he had seen and began twirling it in his fingers. "Her name was Alex." He said in an almost bored voice, though they could see he was more interested than he let on.
"And, the big number three: Are you going to see her again?"
This time, Tre took his time answering. At long last, he broke his gaze from the drumstick.
"I hope so."