Your Hand In Mine

- Shane -

I heard a knock on my door and knew it was Kris. I headed towards the door, still looking for the shoes I wanted to wear, and twisted the door knob and pulled the door back.

"'ey, Shane," he greeted me with a smile. It also looked like he wast trying his hardest not to stare. What was there to stare about, though? My hair was straight, and I had a headband on. I was wearing my favorite jeans that had some rips and tears in them, a light pink, sort of faded hoodie/shirt that showed some of my shoulders and neck, a black tank under that and wait, is that them? Yep, there they are. I found my dark blue converse. I think they liked to play hide and seek, because the last time I had seen them, they were in my closet, and now they were sitting over by my couch. But that's not the point, the point is.. why was he looking at me with his mouth practically hanging open?

I returned his smile. "Hey. Sorry, I couldn't find my shoes. But I just found them. Hang on real quick," I said and walked to where they were sitting. I shoved my feet in them, grabbed my iPod so I could play it in his car, keys, money and my phone. You would think that all of this shit would be in a purse, but I'm not really the purse type. I prefer my back pockets and hoodie pockets. "Alright, I think I got everything. Let's tumble," I told him and we started back to his car.

"Tumble?" he laughed.

"Yeah. It's really 'let's roll', but I'm not very graceful, so I changed it to tumble," I told him.

He nodded his head. "Good one. I might 'ave to use that sometime."

"You can borrow it. Just make sure you give it back and tell everyone that I made it up, and then we won't have any problems," I joked. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Will do. And if I told you, I would 'ave to to kill you. And being charge with murder is not somet'ing that I plan on 'appening, so you will just 'ave to wait and see," he told me. "The usual?" he questioned, motioning towards the radio.

"Nah, I brought my iPod. You still have to listen to the parody of Tik Tok."

"Oh yeah!" I plugged my iPod in and put on the song.

"Wake up in the morning feeling like Winehouse. Grab my breezer, I'm out the door. I'm gonna be really loud. 'Cause I dont care who I piss off, yeah, I'm a real big sinner. Sometimes I eat my dessert before my dinner," I mimicked. Kris gave me a funny look. "Oh, shut up. You're going to love the chorus," I said and punched him in the arm.

I figured I'd save Kris' ears and not sing until the chorus started, which was the best part. "I'm mad, really bad. But dont tell my mum and dad. Pucker up, kiss my butt 'cause I'm bloody fucking nuts. Hear the bass, skinny waist. Now let's copy pokerface like.. whoa. I'm mad, really bad. But dont tell my mum and dad. Pucker up kiss a nut, 'cause it sells to be a slut. Hear the bass, skinny waist. Now lets copy pokerface like.. whoa."

We listened to the whole song a few more times and cracked up afterwords.

"That was great. Where the 'ell did you find that?"

"Told you you'd love it. And my friend, Brian--who wants to meet you guys, if that's okay with you--showed it to me one day. He found it on Youtube."

"Yeah, 'e can meet us. The guy alway like meeting someone new. This will be on my iPod as soon as I get 'ome," he said. "We are 'ere."

I looked out my window then back to Kris. "Peppi's?" Peppi's is this small, little place that has some really good sandwiches, salads, and fries.

"Yep. I love this place, even though I am not really suppose to be eating it, but, oh well. I told you that you did not 'ave to dress up," he assured me and opened his door and got out.

"This place is pretty good. And thanks, I would have felt completely out of place," I said as we headed towards to front door of the restaurant. He held the door open for me, unlike most of those guys who I got set up with. "Thanks," I said with a smile

"No problem," he grinned down at me. I was about four inches shorter than he was.

We stood in line behind a few people, and I noticed some people turn their heads and start gawking at Kris. I turned around so I could face him. "Um, shouldn't you be wearing a disguise or something? You're being eye-fucked by at least four girls."

He looked around then looked back at me with his face scrunched up in confusion. What was so hard to get?

"Look to your left, but don't mak--ugh, well so much for doing this discretely," I laughed and rolled my eyes. He was still somewhat confused. "Now, before you look, don't make it obvious that you're staring. To you left, four booths on the right side, there's a blonde. She's been staring you down since we walked in. Same with that brunette with the fuzzy hair sitting right next to her. Look to your right, there's another blonde who just started batting her eyelashes and flipping her hair so you'd notice her. And the other girl, she's sitting on the stool at the counter--wait, no, that's a guy with long hair, sorry."

"What can I say, I am a 'unk, eh?"

"So full of yourself, aren't you?" Actually, he was very good looking. He didn't look like the typical guys our age that you would see walking the streets of Pittsburgh. Yeah, I know he's French, but he's unlike any other. He has longish, dark brown hair, but he doesn't style it so it looked he was a plywood pusher, which is what I refer to skateboarders as. He made it so there was a messy part down the middle, then pushed it back with his fingers so it didn't fall in his face. He usually topped it all off with a hat. The features that made up his face were different, too, a good different, though. God, what am I saying? Friends, Shane, friends.

"Shane?" Kris asked.

I guess I must have zoned out, oops. "Yeah?" I said, turning to look at him.

"It is our turn to order." Good thing I know this menu like the back of my hand.

"Oh," I said and turned to the cashier lady. "I'll have a Roethlisberger and a Dr. Pepper, please."

"Sure. You're total is nine twenty-three."

I put down a ten right before Kris did and turned around. "Ha! Beat you! You're not paying for me, I told you this." He sighed and shook his head, but still had a smile spread across his lips. He pointed behind me and I turned around.

"Seventy-seven cents is your change. Your order will be up in about five minutes," she told me, and I stuck my change in one of those boxes that go to charities. I can't stand change, except for quarters--I get gumballs from the gumball machine with them. Plus, I'd probably loose those little circles, and even if I only put two cents in the box, a little bit goes a long way, you know.

"Thanks," I told her.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked Kris and didn't even bother to say 'you're welcome' to me.

"Yeah, can I just 'ave an Italian 'oagie and a water?"

"Sure." He paid and we walked over to a counter to wait for our food. "Pucker up, kiss my butt 'cause I'm bloody fucking nut. Copy Poker Face like whoa," I heard him whisper/sing.

I cracked up a bit. "I believe you skipped a few parts. We'll work on it."

"Good. That song is addicting and a lot better than the original. They 'ave a cool accent, too."

"They're British, and I like how they pronounce 'water'. But your accent, it's much cooler. Plus, you can speak a whole other language."

"Merci. J'aime votre accent, aussi." Whoa, that was ho--shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Huh?" I said instead.

"I said thanks, and I like your accent, too," he translated and threw me a small smile.

"Oh. And thanks, I didn't think I had one, but I guess I do now."

"I got one Roethlishberger and one Italian!" Some tall guy with greasy hair yelled. Yikes, buddy. Take a shower once in a while, would you?

We grabbed our food and found a booth towards the back.

"Just letting you know, you're still being eye-fucked. It's kind of amusing, actually," I said with a little chuckle.

"It is not funny!" he said, trying to keep a serious face, but then a smile started to appear. "I t'ink it is sort of creepy the way they look at me. They are not getting any of this, so let them suffer," he laughed.

We dug into our sandwiches and didn't really talk because our faces were stuffed. And like my mom always told me, don't talk with food in your mouth, it's not polite.

"'scuse me, but are you Kris Letang?" some bleach blonde, tanerexic chick with huge boobs stuffed into a low cut shirt and high heels asked Kris. She then proceeded to bend over a little and show her boobs off to him.

He had a look of shock and disgust written all over his face. "Nope. 'e is my twin. Sorry to disappoint you." Good thinking, Kris. Er, well, Kris' twin?

"Really? You look just like him, though," she stated, not quite convinced it wasn't Kris. Maybe you're not as dumb as you look.

"Ever 'ear of identical twin?" he played her.

"Um, yeah. But you look just like him." What an idiot.

"That's because we are identical twin."

"Oh," the blonde said, believing every word that came out his mouth, so gullible. And this would be another reason why blonde's are called dumb. If you knew who Kris Letang was or what he was about, then you would probably know that he's not a twin. Hello.

"Well, bye, then," she said and walked away flipping her hair. Good riddance.

Kris and I started to crack up at her stupidity.

"OhmyGod, Cassie, Kris Letang has a twin! He's over there!" she screamed at her friend, and I now realized they were the girls fucking Kris' brains out with their eyes. I shivered at the thought. What she had just screamed caught everyone's attention and they turned their heads in our direction. Great.

"Um, I think that's our cue to leave." I stated. A few peopled started to stand up from their tables and head straight towards us.

"Oui, it is definitely our cue." He looked over his shoulder and then back at me. "Let's go." We practically sprinted out the door and to his car.

"That was ridiculous. And I can't believe that girl thought you were a twin. Way to think fast," I told him and gave him a little round of applause as we were pulling out of the parking space.

"Merci, merci beaucoup," he said trying his best to sound like Elvis, only in French. "And it was either that, or I told 'er that I really am Kris Letang and then she would shove her boobs in my face even more and try to be my girlfriend."

"So fakebaking blondes that think they can get whoever they want aren't your type?" I questioned.

"No, not at all. I t'ink it is a bit weird that people pay money to go turn themself orange all year round. Move to Florida if you love being tan so much," he said and shook his head. "I would date a girl with any color 'air as long as they 'ad a brain and actually use it. And I do not like 'ow they approach guy. They get all touchy and stuff and when you turn them down, they move onto the next guy and do the same thing. So, if you did 'appen to be their boyfriend, who is to say they are not going around and cheating on you?" Jeesh, most guys would be all over a girl like that.

"I didn't expect to hear that," I said as we came to a red light.

"Shane," he started, looking over to me. "That is why I spend time with you, because you are not like any of those girl. You are so much more than that. It is so 'ard to find a girl like you anymore. Don't you get that? Don't you see 'ow great you really are when you look in the mirror every morning?"

"No," I whispered after a moment.

"I do," he said, and I could feel my cheeks turning pink.

I smiled at him, silently thanking him. "I think you're pretty great, too," I said. "But you know, girls aren't the only ones that are like that. Guys can be like that, too. They have the designer jeans and sunglasses. They get shit-faced with their friends and shove their tongues down random girls' throats. When they're not completely drunk, they try and use their words to get into a girl's pants. The best is when you ignore them or say you're not interested and they walk away calling you a bitch. It makes my day," I said with a smile. Making them walk away pissed off because they couldn't get a girl, it was sweet, sweet, victory. "Do they really think that by staring at my boobs instead of my face that it's going to make me get drunk as hell and go back to their place and fuck them? Because that's never going to happen."

He was silent for a moment as he shook his head "I 'ate when a guy act like that. They should not touch women like that, especially you," he said. Would it be crazy for me to say that I felt almost.. protected, like if something bad like that happened, Kris would show up out of nowhere and put the guy in his place? "But, I 'ave one for you. I 'ave some designer clothes, and I 'ave kiss my fair share of random girl. I 'ave tried to talk to girl, and they turn me down, too. So do that make me one of 'those' guy?" he asked, a little on the shy side.

"Absolutely not." He seemed a little shocked by my response but smiled anyway. "You don't walk around like you own the place. You don't get trashed with your friends. You don't seem like the guy who always goes home and has sex with some stranger. And I'm pretty sure the reason those girls say no to you is because you're not that guy," I elaborated.

"Well, I am glad I come off that way, because I am not one of those guy, and I don't want to be like them, at all," he replied seriously, and I noticed we were almost back to my place.

"Good. You'll make some girl very happy one day," I told him as I saw him smile and look over to me.

"Merci. And whoever you end up wit', 'e will be one lucky bastard," he said, sounding a bit.. envious of whoever the guy would be.

I blushed. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. One more time," he said excitedly and pushed play on my iPod then turned the volume up. I sang every word this time and did some of the motions I remembered from the video on Youtube. Kris, well, he tried his best to sing along. By the time the song had ended, we were parked outside my apartment.

"Thanks for tonight. I had a lot of fun, especially watching those girls stare you down and listening to you try and sing," I laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. I am going to go 'ome and master this song, and the next time I see you, you will be blown away," he said confidently.

"We'll see," I smirked. "I'll talk to you later, Kris."

"Au revoir, Shane," he said, and I got out of his car and walked to the front door. I turned back and waved to him. He returned it and then drove away.

I slowly made my way upstairs and unlocked my apartment. I threw my stuff down on the table and kicked off my shoes.

"It's happening." I jumped a little and then sort of backed into a chair and 'tumbled' to the ground.

"Holy shit! Lex! What're you doing here? And what's 'happening'?" I said, a little out of breath.

"Sorry. You gave me a key, remember? I forgot my half of the cake, so, I had to come get it. And are you blind? It's happening. You walked in here with a smile plastered all over your pretty, little face. Must've been a hell of a date." Oh, she thinks she knows it all. Hardly!

"First of all, it's okay. Just don't sneak up on me like that again. And second of all, it wasn't a date. We went out to dinner, as friends," I mumbled the last part. She just gave me this look and started to gather up her things.

Did I like Kris as a friend? Yes. More than friends?