People Got A Lotta Nerve

Have you ever had a moment where everything around you seems to just...stop? Like the world is a giant DVR player and someone just hit the pause button on your life?

Here I was, on my beloved couch, cell phone in hand, reading that stupid little text over and over. As usual, millions of questions were flying through my head. 'How did he get my number? How can he even remember me? Why does he want to talk to me? Why do I care so much? Why cant I reply? What the hell is wrong with me?'

...What the hell is wrong with me?

Good Christian clearly couldn't figure it out, and I wasn't even going to attempt to. I sighed, and leaned my head back on the couch, my bun getting in the way of me comfortably resting my head back. I closed my eyes as my hands grabbed at my elastic hair tie, pulling it in just the right way to make my hair fall out of the bun and cascade around my shoulders and back. I rolled my phone lackadaisically over my fingers, the cold plastic case instantly warming up to my touch. I hated it when I got this way. I was so easily overwhelmed, for no good reason. I had just met this boy like what, 3 days ago? And here I was, hyperventilating and over analyzing a one line text message.

I mean, seriously! I had witnessed this kid try and get it on with some bimbo in clear high heels, how much class could he possess? I didn't want to become this 'Oliver', tripper boy's next fuck just because he is stuck in San Diego a few days. I was already neck deep in thought when the front door opened, and more than one pair of shoes clicked on the linoleum entryway.

"Wake up, Christian!" Emma whispered, flicking the light switch on and off over and over.

My eyes squeezed shut, I wasn't ready to face my chipper roommate and her guest just yet.

"Will you stop flipping the fucking light, Em?" I groaned, flipping over onto my belly and shielding my face with my arm.

"Then be a good hostess and say hello to Jamie!" I heard disgusting squelching kissing noises.

"Hi Jamie."

No response...but still squelching kissing. I really was not in the mood for this. I wish I could have closed my ears in the same way I closed my eyes, shutting myself off completely from the world, the two loud people who just entered my calm little sanctuary.

"...Can you two please proceed to make sweet love in some place other than the main entryway of the house? I mean, I love it, I really do. There is nothing Id want more right now than to hear you two proclaim your love for each other off of the highest mountain tops, but I think that the neighbors may not agree, especially since the front door is wide open. You may want to wave to Mrs. Mailey across the hall there, Em. She always thought you were a classy gal..."

At the mention of Mrs. Mailey, Emma quickly removed herself from Jamie's face, and turned her head. There Mrs. Mailey was, all 72 years of her, staring directly out of her window at Emma. Emma blushed, and slowly waved to her neighbor. Jamie laughed, and flashed a smile, his teeth lining up perfectly. With a small giggle from Emma's lips, she shut the front door hurriedly, before grabbing Jamie's hand and leading him past the couch to her bedroom.

"Nice to see you again, Kell...Chris...Carrie.."

"Christian."

"Oh, right..Christian." He flashed me a smart-alec grin, and shut the door to Emma's room, their loud giggles becoming hushed and muted.

Without a second of hesitation, I found my cell phone buried between two couch cushions. After that display of affection, I had to reread that text over again. To reply...or not to reply...

Reply! He clearly wants to talk to you!

No. I have no idea what to say back.

...a simple hello? ask him how he got your number?

...Go away, Good Christian.

I sighed, knowing for once, I would end up listening to her. I couldn't let this little text drive me mad for weeks and weeks. I know, for a fact, that I did not give him my number. And I know, for a fact, that he clearly is not in desperate need for a lady friend, with all these whores dropping to their knees for him whenever he steps into the room. He just had that quality about him, I couldn't put my finger on it, that made him...sexy, and irresistible. And someone I had to get to know.

"Hey..how did you get my number?"

-----

The weeks had gone by quickly, the end of February signaling the end of Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent, and thankfully, the disposal of the extra candles my boss Bill had accidentally ordered. This of course also meant that my birthday was just around the corner, March 16th.

I have never been to big on birthdays. I mean, the hype really ruins it for me. When I was younger, my parents used to build up my birthday to epic proportions. I swear some years I thought the heavens would open up and Jesus would come down on a staircase made of clouds, just to wish me a happy 8th birthday. Once I got older, the hype quickly became more exciting than the actual day, since I was no longer having or being invited to birthday parties, and my great aunt Matilda was no longer sending me $100 checks to 'buy some sweets'.

This year however, I had a feeling my 20th would no longer be in my control. Emma was going to take over, and she was probably going to throw me some huge party, hopefully without me having to hide under my bed for hours at a time this time.

Surprisingly, I still received random texts from Oliver, labeled 'tripper boy' in my phone. They were always sporadic, and always spontaneous, his Yorkshire slang weaving its way through his words. More than once I had to consult some random website I found claiming to be an 'English to Yorkshire' dictionary, just to determine what he was talking about. And, most of the time I tried my best to respond in the coolest manner I could, trying to throw in a joke or laugh here and there. It was worrisome, though. I mean, lets face facts. In person, I was basically the epitome of an awkward turtle. I stopped talking at the wrong moments, made jokes inappropriately, and never really seemed to pick up on those silent clues, the 'body language.' How was I supposed to be friendly, impressive, and interesting to some globe trotting rock star? I mean, the most interesting thing happening in my life at the moment was the final episode of Project Runway sitting impatiently on my DVR. I had a feeling Oliver did not care either way between Christian Siriano vs. Jillian Lewis.

But somehow, he kept on replying, typing 'lol' at the right moment, and asking enough questions just to keep me replying, text after text. I really didn't know what was happening to me. There would be nights where I knew he was performing, and obviously couldn't text me, and I would be....sad.

-----

"Chrissssssy!" Emma yelled, "Come out front, please please please!" I could hear her screaming from the safe confines of my bedroom, even though she was in the front yard...I wonder what the neighbors thought. Here she was, all 5'8 inches of her, clad in tiny shorts and an oversized v-neck, her black pumps making her legs go on forever. And here I was, short, stubby, and feeling overdressed in a simple black dress. I was actually busy when she called, sitting on the floor in front of my cloest, trying to make an executive decision as to what shoes to wear. I couldn't decide between gladiator sandals or simple black flats. It is hard to choose your footwear when I didn't know the destination.

"Hold your horses, little lady!" I yelled back, opting for the flats. Gladiators had too many clasps and buckles and other things I simply couldn't be bothered to affix at the time.

"We are going to be late! We have places to go, people to see!"

I could hear her stress the phrase 'people to see', but to be honest at the time I didn't think much of it. I mean, Emma always has someone to see. She was a complete social butterfly, and I was more of an old grey rock.

About 10 minutes later, I walked out the front door, absent mindedly leaving it unlocked, and followed Emma into her car. Her electric blue Ford Focus revved to life instantly, and down the drive we went.

"So, any clue where we are going?" She smiled, smacking on her chewing gum loudly over the music.

"Well, the 5 North..." I replied, as we sped down the on ramp to the freeway.

"You're so dumb, Chris" Emma laughed, and I rolled my eyes. Sometimes she just didn't get it.

The drive seemed to lag on for hours, the CD was changed a few times, my legs quickly became anxious and cramps, and my mind seemed to wander for hours and hours, finally tired of watching trees and shoreline after shoreline pass. The sun had set past the horizon when Emma finally pulled off the freeway.

"Chrissy Darling, open your eyes!"