Before the Summer's Out...

We kept watching Forrest Gump. Here's the bad thing about sitting next to your best friend who is making you crazy while watching a movie: no matter how you drunk you get, you still keep having all the thoughts and feelings you shouldn't have, they just don't freak you out as much because you aren't as aware and anxious of them. But they are there, my friend. They are there in your muscles and your blood and are slowly but surely turning you insane.

And I was pretty damn drunk. Enid, I think to make me feel less awkward about getting trashed, had some beer too. But she had like two cans. I cleaned out whatever she didn't have. By the time Tom Hanks was finished acting like the luckiest retard ever, I was about ready to either fall asleep or jump off the roof. Either sounded pretty painless in comparison to Enid and her stormy eyes making me feel like I had a dagger in my lungs.

I think, perhaps, Enid was unintentionally lethal.

"Now what?" Enid asked me, polishing off the popcorn.

"Um. How well do you remember CPR?" I asked her.

"Why?" Enid said, alarmed.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," I said. I wasn't having one, but while I was in that heavily inebriated state, I thought I might have been.

"What? Really? Does your arm hurt?" Enid asked, turning to me.

I was staring with glazed over eyes at the TV. That was a good thing. When I was drunk, the magnets in Enid's eyes weren't as strong.

"My heart is in my chest, you whacko," I said. Whacko?

"One of the symptoms of a heart attack is your arm hurts. Or goes numb. And your chest feels tight," Enid informed me. She did the reflexive, pushing her non-existent glasses up her nose.

"I don't know. Here. Feel!" I grabbed her wrist and flopped her hand against my pectoral muscle. I didn't mean to flex it, but I think I did.

"What am I supposed to be feeling? Besides you flexing your muscle, for some reason."

"My heart! Is it failing?" I demanded.

"No," Enid said shaking her head.

I pushed her hand away. It was making the skin under it burn. "Hm. Ironic," I quoted the kid from Two and a Half Men.

Enid laughed at me and then sat up on her knees, her boobs closer to my face for a moment. Jesus Christ, Enid had to know what she was doing. This couldn't all be coincidental torture.

"Enid? May I ask you a personal question?" I said, blinking at her.

Enid tucked her hair behind her ears and then leaned on her fist, her arm propped on the back of the couch. "Sure. If I can ask you one first," she conditioned.

"Uh, it doesn't work that way. But ok," I said squinting my eyes and making a face past her shoulder.

Enid laughed again. "How drunk are you? On a scale of 1 to five. Five being willing to have anal sex with a hobo and then black out and one being you can't really walk straight," she asked. She's assuming, of course, I wouldn't want to have sex with a hobo while I'm sober. Which I guess is a safe assumption.

"Hm. Well I'd say I'm about a... 3.5?" I said, trying to be as accurate as possible.

"Really? You're that drunk," Enid said amused.

I nodded. I wanted to fuck my best friend very badly, I was that drunk.

"So now your question," Enid prompted.

"Oh right. It's quite personal. Don't hit me," I warned.

Enid rolled her eyes at me and did the reflexive pushing up non-existent glasses. "I'm not going to hit you," she said condescendingly.

"What bra size are you?" I challenged her her condescension.

"32 C."

"Jesus. How... how big is that?"

"It works, like, you times your age by two and then go back two letters in the alphabet. It's all about the twos. Because you have two breasts," Enid said.

Made sense at that time. I nodded.

"Of course, I have two breasts. You don't have any," She continued.

I frowned, squinting. "So Heather's would be... 32 ... F?? Is that even real?"

"Benj, I'm lying to you. The number is the circumference under your bust in inches and the letter just works from the smallest A cup through the alphabet chronologically."

"Oh. So then... how big is a C cup?"

"It's... pretty good. You know Senorita McNeil? She has C cups," Enid said.

Whoa, our Spanish teacher had really nice knockers. So I blinked and looked at Enid's chest, reassessing.

Whoa. Enid had nice boobs. Holy cow... wait, wait a minute. Enid's boobs... they were big! But not too big. Just... whoa. Like a handful and a half! Oh my god. What was this?? Since when-? How can I call myself a heterosexual male and not have noticed that my best friend had the greatest rack on the planet. Better than Heather's!

Did I just say that?

I looked away from Enid's chest quickly and stared at her rug. I had a surprising feeling of guilt and modesty. I felt... bad for staring at Enid's chest. I mean, yeah I was doing it because I was impressed with her. But she was my best friend, and I felt bad that I was ogling her boobs like a drooling Neanderthal. Too many conflicted thoughts! Too many, and I was supposed to be drunk and only able to think about getting a girl in bed or music.

But I didn't go back to staring at Enid's boobs. My brain just wouldn't let me. It was going haywire. Like even more than before. I actually was having trouble breathing. I wondered if I was going to barf. I wondered if I was going to die.

"Enid I need to be honest with you. About something," For some fucked up reason, I believed that a drunken confession would save me from my eminent peril.

"...ok," Enid said suspiciously.

I looked at her. My eyes were probably glazed over and watery. "You look so hott and it's making me crazy," I admitted painfully.

Enid blinked and then made a face at me. The response was too casual.

"Huh. Maybe you should go to sleep," she suggested paternally. Ugh!! Her all wrong reaction was just making me crazier!

Enid moved to stand up and I panicked. I grabbed her arms and pulled her back down next to me on the couch.

"Benj? What the hell is wrong with you today?" she laughed at me frowning. "It can't actually be me that's making you crazy," she rolled her eyes. She was DOUBTING herself?? Well I had to rectify that.

And this is where I prove that I was 3.5 drunk. I was still holding Enid's arms, so I just pulled her closer to me and kissed her very abruptly, crushing my lips against hers.