We Lived Fast And Died Pretty

Waking up on the couch was never something to consider comfortable. Waking up on the couch with your best friend sprawled awkwardly across your entire body? Yeah, definitely not comfortable.

I didn't know what to do. Drex's pretty thin, so it's not like it was unpleasant, it's just that he didn't know about me snuggling up to him last night, so waking up on top of me would come as a major shock.

Usually snuggling's consensual.

Last night, I practically cuddle-raped him. Or...Cuddle surprise sexed him. It's not like he'd mind.

Okay. I constantly confuse myself. Either way, I like antagonizing him.

I did the only thing I could think of, and quickly flipped him off of the couch. I dived for the side of the room closest to my door.

"ARRGHHHHHHHHHHHH." Drexel yelled, obviously imitating a dying whale, except that might not have been what he was going for.

I doubled over laughing.

"What the fuck, mate?"

"I came out of my room and you just tumbled right off the couch! It was fuckin' hilarious!" I chuckled.

"Really?"

"No. I pushed you off. Want some Trifle? We have some left over from the other night." I offered him his favorite dessert, hoping he'd ignore the random act of violence I committed.

"No. Tea and toast. You're a bit of a dick, you know that?" He laughed, opening his mouth to say something else just as his cell started to ring.

"Who the fuck calls this early in the morning?" he moaned, reaching for his phone.

He checked the caller I.D. "Huh." he muttered, "Carter?"

--

"Woah, Carter, Chill."

--

"You're where?!"

--

"Well then you need to come here! Where did you stay last night? My God!"

--

"You just decided to bunk up with some random guy? Are you stupid?"

--

"I don't care if he says he's gay! He could still be a rapist!"

--

"Okay. Okay. I want to meet him. Right now. You get your ass over here, and by the Queen if I don't kill you."

--

"Bye." He muttered, throwing himself back down onto the couch.

"Who's Carter? If she can piss you off so much over the course of one phone call, I want to meet her and have her teach me her magical ways."

"You're a dick," he sighed, "I'm off to shower. Change your clothes, you smell like you bathed in the pints last night."

"I did bathe in the pints last night." I laughed, leaping past him to get first shower.

"You're a hopeless cocksucking arsehole, you know that?!"

"Oh shut it, you manky prat."

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I'd taken my time in the shower, I liked wasting the hot water, it was my own little revenge on Drexel for never doing his dishes.

Then I threw on a pair of jeans. I have a rule, if I'm not going to see anyone but Drexel, I don't wear pants, if I am, I wear the tightest thing I can find.

I'm a very all-or-nothing type of guy.

I put my hair into a neater array, and then meandered out into the living room, only to see Drexel come tearing out of his room to answer a sharp knock at the door.

"It's about time you answered the door." A short girl strode into our flat, leaving a timid boy standing in the doorframe.

"You only just knocked." Drexel replied.

"That's not the point. I'd like you to meet--" She looked around, her eyes locking on the boy in the hallway, "Uhm, 'Lecto, why are you just standing there? Come here."

Her smile was a lot less rude than her words.

"Anyways, meet Alecto. See? He's gay and he's nice."

Drexel seemed uncertain, but he clapped the boy on the shoulder and led him to the couch.

"Alright, I have some questions for you, if you're planning on hanging around my best friend." Drexel said, grinning at the girl, who seemed a little put out when he called her his best friend.

And either way, best friend? What am I? Mincemeat?

"Uhm...Okay..." The boy answered, obviously uncomfortable.

"What's your name?"

"Alecto Reese."

"Ah. An American. Where are you from?"

"Boston."

"I failed geography, so I'll pretend I know where that is."

"Fine by me."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"So you're legal to drink."

"I don't drink."

How boring. Instead of listening to Drexel drone on like a worried father before his teenage daughter's first date, I wandered into our microscopic kitchen to get myself a beer.

Drexel glared at me as I walked back out into the living room. So now he notices me.

"Oliver. It's only one in the afternoon!" He scolded.

"Exactly. It's one here, and it's five O'Clock somewhere!" I grinned ceekily at him, winked, and curled up in my arm chair, "Honestly, Drex, lighten up. I would've gotten tea if you'd left me any."

He glared at me.

I turned to the boy, "Want one?" I asked--What was his name again?

"No thank you. I've never had one, and I have no intention of trying it now."

Did he just claim to have never had a beer?

"Ah," I laughed, "Do you like it stronger?"

"No. I've never tried alcohol."

Okay. Now I have certifiable proof of my own insanity. His curt American accent reeled through my head. I got up and wandered back to my room.

"Did I say something wrong?" I heard the boy ask behind me.

"No. Ollie's just never come across anyone who's that clean. To him, clean means not drinking on Sunday's."

Fuck Drexel.

He has no idea what he's talking about.

Clean means not drinking on Sunday mornings...

Until Drexel got clean and sober, I'd never known anyone who could go more than six hous without something.

Maybe it's just Americans.