Words I Might Have Ate

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“What’s yours say?” Hollie asks, holding the steering wheel still with her knee as she struggles to pop her fortune cookie out of the plastic wrapper.

I break open my cookie and pull out the small slip of white paper. “It says ‘the time to start something new is upon you’. What’s that supposed to mean—I have to start another project?” I’m thinking of Green Day’s efforts in the studio and of my classes with David. I didn’t have the time to be starting something new.

“Don’t be so literal about it,” Hollie laughs, finally dumping her cookie out into her hand. “It’s like don’t turn away any new opportunities that come your way, it’ll pay off in the end.”

I push the cookie into my mouth and rub the fortune between my thumb and index finger idly as I look out my window. “So what, you’re a fortune cookie interpreter now?”

“Yes I am,” Hollie admits, laughing a bit as she crunches into her dessert. “Didn’t Mom tell you? Okay, okay so mine says ‘speak only well of the people around you and you need never whisper.’ What the hell, I think my cookie’s telling me that I talk behind peoples’ backs.”

“You so do,” I agree enthusiastically, dodging her playful swat. “Keep your eyes on the road, woman! This is exactly why I hate when you drive.”

Hollie pushes the last bit into her mouth. “Oh, like you’re any better, Mister let’s smoke, blast music and finish getting dressed as I’m going 60 down a busy road.”

“You’re just jealous that you can’t multitask as well as I can,” I announce smugly as she pulls onto my road. “I think my driving record speaks for itself. Who in this car has the most tickets?”

Hollie huffs in a mock-annoyed tone as she pulls into my apartment complex’s drive. “Me.”

“Exactly,” I smile at her as I undo my seatbelt and open my door. “Thanks for lunch today, Hols.”

My sister smiles at me as she shifts into reverse. “No problem, Billie. Thanks for helping me out at the store. I really appreciate you giving up your afternoon.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything better with my time,” I admit sheepishly, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Will I see you at that dinner at Mom’s house in a few weeks?”

She puckers her lips as she thinks, her engine idling uselessly. “I think so—if Adam’s back in town, I was thinking about faking a stomach bug or something.”

“Hey, lying to get out of family dinners is my thing,” I tease as I step out of the car. “So I have dibs on a fake illness if he’s going to be there.”

“Well we’ll just see who Mom believes first,” Hollie laughs, waving as I slam the door shut behind me.

I wave goodbye before I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her reverse out of the drive. She shifts back into drive and honks her horn at me before pulling down the street. Only when I watch her car turn out onto the main street do I turn around and make my way inside the apartment building.

As I start up the stairs, I dig through my pockets for my keys. I can’t remember if Mike is off work yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I jog up the last flight of stairs and practically collapse as I reach the third floor. I really have to stop smoking so much; my lungs feel like they’re about to give out and it was only three flights of stairs.

How many stairs are even in a flight anyway?

I look back at the stairs curiously and then walk to the top and silently count. Fourteen stairs total and fourteen times three is forty-two. So I just walked up nearly fifty stairs. It’s no wonder I feel like I’m about to die.

I always thought that a flight was a lot more than fourteen personally.

My keys jingle in my hands cheerfully as I walk to my front door, humming softly. I test the knob and to my delight, find that it’s unlocked. Mike is home from work then. Or I forgot to lock it on my way out the door this morning. Either one is plausible.

I swing open the door and immediately drop my keys on the table. “Hey Mike, how many stairs make up a flight? Is it more than fourteen because if so, I’ve been living a lie—“ I stop talking, nearly biting my tongue once I spot who’s sitting in my living room.

Mike is lounging on the sofa easily, a beer sitting on his thigh and his head resting lazily on the back of the couch. But Rilla is sitting in the armchair, stiff and clearly tense. For the longest couple of seconds of my life, I stand in the doorway and just stare at her.

She looks a bit out of place in our messy apartment, but at the same time, she completely looks like she belongs. There’s an unsure small smile on her face and she’s running her palms up and down her thighs slowly, like she’s trying to find something to occupy her hands.

She swallows noticeably and her smile widens a bit. “H-hi, Billie.”

“Hey,” I reply slowly, stepping further into the living room and letting the door swing shut behind me. My gaze travels over to Mike, who’s busy watching the exchange interestedly.

He catches my stare and grins at me, like he already knows what she’s doing here. Though, knowing him, he probably does. Girls just seem to flock to Mike and spill their secrets to him, whether he wants them or to or not. “Look who’s stopped by to see you, BJ. And now, I am going to go on that run to the grocery store—d’you need anything, Beej?”

His words are coded and cryptic and I shake my head slowly, trying not to let my nerves show in front of the girl. “No, I’m good, Mike. Thanks.”

“Okay, it was good to see you again, Rilla. Hopefully I see you when I come back,” He smiles at her as he stands up and walks into the kitchen. We both listen to him put his beer in the fridge and then he collects his keys and wallet and walks back out into the living room. “See you guys later.” His blue eyes bear down into mine as he opens the front door and as he starts to close the door behind him, he offers me an excited thumbs up once Rilla can’t see him anymore.

The silence that sweeps down over the apartment is heavy and I shuffle on the carpet for a minute before I walk over to the sofa and sink down onto the lumpy cushions slowly. My foot bounces out of pure anxiety and I look anywhere in the room but at the girl sitting a few feet away from me.

“How are you?” She asks finally and her voice is a bit shaky, like it had been at the bookstore this afternoon.

I look over at her and realize that she too is staring down at the coffee table, her fingers a tight knot in her lap. “I’m doing good,” I nod, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I could really go for a beer right now. Or a blunt. “Uh, how about you?”

“Oh, me?” Rilla looks startled by my question, but she recognizes my attempt to keep the conversation rolling and she looks incredibly thankful. “I’m well, thank you. I-I bet you’re wondering why exactly I’m here.”

“Just a little bit,” I murmur, standing up and starting for the kitchen. I’m halfway in the next room when I remember that I just got up and left in the middle of her speaking. “Did you, uh, want anything to drink? We have beer and,” I open the fridge and do a quick scan of the shelves. “Orange juice and water. I think this is tea,” I peer into the pitcher and sniff it cautiously. It tingles my nose so I push it back onto the shelf. “But don’t hold me to that, it smells a bit weird.”

“Just a water would be good, thanks.” Rilla’s voice is a lot closer than I expect and I jump, nearly slamming the back of my head into the bottom of the freezer.

I maneuver myself out of the refrigerator and catch sight of the smile on her face, though she’s working desperately to hide it by biting down on her lower lip. “It’s even funnier when it’s Tré, trust me. He screams like a little girl.”

She laughs and the sound immediately puts me at ease. The tension is slowly dissolving and I heave a quiet sigh of relief as I pull out a glass from the drying rack by the sink. I’m pretty sure this is clean, I think I’d seen Mike doing the dishes last night. But I was also completely faded because Tré had come over with a brand new dime-bag, so I might be imagining things.

I discretely smell the plastic and I’m relieved that it smells faintly of our soap. I hold the freezer door open with my shoulder as I drop a couple of ice cubes into the cup and then step to the sink where I run the tap for a second before I fill up her drink. “Here you go,” I hand her the cup before I take a beer out of the case and use the counter to knock off the lid.

“Thanks,” Rilla leans one hip against the counter and she scratches at the back of her head before she starts to laugh. She finally looks me in the eye and my heart thunders in my chest once I meet her green eyes head-on. “I’ve only skipped classes twice in my life and both times it was because of you. Not because of you,” She rushes to amend her sentence. “But because I-I’d rather see you then be in a classroom.”

“Don’t let Blondie hear you say that,” I note with a smirk as I take a swig of my beer. “She’ll forbid you from ever seeing me again after she murders me.”

Rilla laughs again, still playing with her cup rather than drinking the water. “Faye is a bit over-protective, that’s for sure.” A silence follows her words and the only other noise in the room is the hum of the fridge and the steady dripping of the sink behind me. “Are you seeing her?” She blurts out suddenly and I look up from my inspection of the faded tiles on our floor with a frown on my face. “That girl from Gilman’s,” She explains, looking thoroughly distressed over her question. “Are you dating her?”

“Who, Abigail?” I wrinkle my nose. “No. I’m not dating her. I’m not interested in her like that.”

The look that crosses over her pale face can only be described as relief before something that I can’t quite identify replaces it. “So you’d rather just sleep with her instead?” She sounds bitter and upset, dropping my gaze in order to glare down fiercely at the floor.

I cringe at her words as I struggle to come up with a suitable explanation. How do I tell her that that was the first time it happened and it was a mistake? And then all the times after that were out of spite and hurt and anger. “I know that what you saw doesn’t make me look like a nice guy,” I begin slowly, picking my words carefully. “And I want you to know that it was a onetime thing. I didn’t mean to sleep with her.” The look she throws at me is one of utter disbelief and I can tell that she’s withdrawing from me and our conversation. It’s like she’s already given up before I’m able to explain to myself. “Haven’t you ever done something on a complete impulse—it sounds like such a good idea at the time and everything is amazing until-until you come to your senses. And then you realize that you were wrong, that you rushed into things too quickly, and you’d give anything to take it back.”

Rilla is quiet, her head bowed, but then she starts to nod slowly. Inwardly, I’m relieved that she’s not completely ignoring everything I have to say. She’s giving me a chance to explain things.

“That’s how it is with Abigail. I slept with her,” I announce boldly and then watch as Rilla winces like I’d struck her across the face. “But I-I…wish I could take it back. I’m not a bad guy, Rilla. I made a mistake, but I’m owning up to it now.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” She asks quietly, chewing down on her lower lip. “You just left me standing in the middle of my dorm’s lobby and I wanted you to come back more,” Her voice breaks and she inhales sharply, blinking repeatedly. “More than anything. I would have talked to you, I would have let you explain. As soon as you left, I wanted to shout at you to come back. But I just let you walk away,” She whispers, wrapping her arms around her waist and hugging herself tightly.

I run my hand through my hair frustratedly. “What would you have me do? Just walk back into that-that fucking lion’s den?! Rilla, it was three against one and you clearly weren’t going to give me the time of day. Admit it, you were pissed off and you were taking it out on me. You wanted nothing more than to—“

“Okay!” She shouts, her hand contracting around her glass so tightly that her knuckles turn a ghostly white. It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard her speak and to be honest, it takes me by surprise. I didn’t think she had it in her. “I was pissed off and I was hurt. Seeing you with her just after you’d obviously just got done screwing around nearly broke my heart. I knew I stumbled into something intimate and personal and I just wanted to get away. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I have no idea why. You’re this-this guy that is constantly in my head and I shouldn’t even like you.”

I’m a bit insulted by that last part. What does she mean exactly by she shouldn’t even like me? I move away from the counter and grab at my hair. The pain that radiates through my skull is refreshing in a way, it lets me know that I’m not dreaming everything. Finally I release and look up at her, shaking my head. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking her straight in the eye. “I’m sorry that you had to see us, I’m sorry that it upset you but most of all, I’m sorry I let you walk away. I’ve never been good with timing and it’s like we both never realized-never clicked at the same time.”

“Do you mean that?” She whispers, wiping away at the tears in her eyelashes hastily.

I nod and then close the short gap between us. I hesitate and she’s watching me warily, still shaken and upset. But then I wrap my arms around her tiny body and pull her into me. She fits perfectly under my chin and she rests against my chest, trembling because of the adrenaline coursing through her body.

A loud meow is heard before I feel something brush up against my ankle. Rilla pulls away from me slightly, laughing a bit as she wipes at her face and looks down at Zero. “Way to ruin the moment,” I groan, though I’m smiling broadly. It’ll just be my little secret that the girl in my arms is the reason for it and not my pet.

“Hi Zero,” Rilla coos, bending over and running her hand down the tabby’s spiny back gently. “How are you?” The cat purrs deep in its body and rubs up against Rilla happily. “Good, huh?”

“So the cat gets more attention than I do? Great,” I huff jokingly, leaning back against the counter and watching the both of them.

Rilla flushes and straightens up, adjusting her beanie and looking up at me from under her eyelashes. “I think…” She begins, biting down on her lip. I raise my eyebrows up at her and she smiles, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her voice drops to a whisper as she steps closer. “I think that, all things considered, I wouldn’t mind it if you kissed me.”

At the end of her sentence, she’s gotten so quiet that I have to strain to catch everything that tumbles out of her mouth. But I do hear her and I’m a bit bowled over by this revelation. Who knew Rilla could flirt? “You only think that you want me to kiss you?” I tease, stepping closer and looking deep into her eyes.

She giggles—giggles!—and those eyes begin to sparkle as she turns her face up to meet mine. “I know I do,” She replies boldly, reaching out and touching my cheek lightly.

My body reacts to her touch and a shiver races down my spine. I cup her chin gently and lean forward, my heart hammering wildly in my chest and my mind going off in a thousand different directions—I can’t keep up.

I’m about to kiss Rilla. Rilla, the shy, slightly dorky college girl, who somehow manages to captivate me seemingly effortlessly. She’s not my type at all; hell, she barely knows anything about music, choosing instead to spend her time with her nose in a book. But she makes it work for her; she’s attractive to me and I want to know more about her. I want to know everything; I want to be the reason her smile lights up her face.

I can feel her breath ghosting across my face and she’s turning her head just so while I lean down. It’s about to happen, I can already feel myself—

“Hey guys.”

Rilla pulls away from me like she’s been electrocuted and I’m left with empty hands as she whirls around to look at whoever’s just walked into my kitchen. The gasp that slips out of her mouth is loud and frightened and she nearly backs into me in her haste to step away.

I groan, curling my empty hand into a fist and then forcing out a tight smile at my best friend. “Tré, what the hell are you doing?”

Tré shrugs, clad in his pizza outfit and smelling like he just got off of a busy shift. “We agreed that we were having band practice after I got off work.”

“Yes,” I reply, still smiling at him. “But you weren’t supposed to get off until four. It is only 2:45. You are early,” I add on pointedly, trying to direct his attention to Rilla.

Tré doesn’t catch on to my obvious hints, walking further into the kitchen and opening up the fridge. “I know, but I didn’t feel like working anymore, so I made up a family emergency to get me out early. If anyone asks, you have AIDs.”

“Okay, I—what?” I roll my eyes as he backs out of the fridge with a bowl of noodles from Mike’s dinner three nights ago. “I don’t have AIDs!” I protest, mostly for Rilla’s benefit. She already thought I was a jackass when it came to girls; she didn’t need to think I had an STD as well.

Tré shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his boldfaced lie. “I know you don’t, but my bosses think you do. Anyway, did you ever return that movie you rented last week? I didn’t get to finish it.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he strolls back out into the living room where I can hear the television turn on.

I run a hand through my hair agitatedly and then look at Rilla, who’s busy staring down at the floor and not making eye contact with me. “Sorry about him. He’s a bit,” I raise my voice so he can hear me in the next room. “Socially retarded!” But he doesn’t seem to hear me as he shrieks with laughter at something on the television. “I just—I—yeah,” I laugh and then run my hands through my hair again, mostly because I have nothing better to do and things are incredibly awkward.

Rilla finally looks up at me and offers me a shy smile before she turns around and walks to my bedroom door. Her hand is on the knob and she’s starting to push the door open when she looks back at me over her shoulder, biting down on her full pink lip before she disappears into my room.

I remain standing in the middle of the kitchen, a bit shocked at what’s just happened. Did she really just look at me like that? Who knew Rilla even had it in her? Does this mean I’m going to get laid?

No! I remind myself sternly. You are not going in there to have sex with Rilla. Even though you really want to. Even if she’s currently taking off her clothes and will be laying on your bed, waiting for you—no! Don’t go there. Don’t even think about it.

It’s then that I realize that there’s something terribly wrong with this picture. I’m standing by myself in the middle of my kitchen while my best friend is a few yards away from me, stuffing his face with noodles and watching television, and I have this hot girl in my bedroom. Alone.

I push away from the counter and scramble over to the door before I step into my room, trying my best to remain composed. I close the door behind me with a soft click and then look at Rilla, who is sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed.

“I thought we might be more comfortable in here,” She answers my unasked question quietly before she smiles at me, patting the spot next to her.

I slowly walk over before I sit down next to her and glance at her from the corner of my eye. “I just want—“

Her lips are on mine suddenly and the rest of my words are swallowed as she kisses me. But then she pulls away much too soon for my liking and I make a move to pull her back to me just as she starts to speak. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait—“

It’s then that I turn her face towards mine and press my lips up against her own. She moans into the kiss and I shift so we’re facing one another. Her hands run through my hair and then settle around my neck, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck, wrapping it repeatedly around her finger.

She’s nibbling gently on my lower lip and my mouth opens before she scoots closer, pulling my face closer to her own. We’re moving together, lips and tongues and soft noises of contentment. I pull away, inhaling sharply as I take in her kiss-swollen lips with a bit of pride.

Her eyes are wide and dreamy as she slowly meets my gaze. I lean forward and drop an innocent kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” I mimic her teasingly and the flustered smile on her face lets me know that she recognizes my joke. “I couldn’t wait.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” She whispers, her voice rough and hazy. “But I’m glad you didn't.”