Sample Disc

I’ve been living in Ryan’s house for a long time. A few months, it’s been now. Gone through summer, and senior year is here, and it’s two weeks in, and I haven’t spoken to my parents since June.

There’s a buzzing under my pillow, a text from Shane, “You’re late for school, asshole.”

“Shit.” I mumble, rolling out of bed, thanking God that I went to bed with clothes on last night. I turn to look at Ryan, and fuck, this can’t be real.

His legs are hanging off of the bed, arms slung wildly over his head, and this is good. This is a good place to be.

It’s fucking surreal, how amazing my life is. It’s like, this can’t be happening to me. It’s got to be a fucking dream, because this can’t be real.

I run down the stairs, grabbing the keys to Ryan’s car off of the hook by the door.

My brain is racing, touching on subject after subject as I drive to school, probably ten miles over the speed limit.

And this seriously can’t be happening. My life is too fucking amazing for this to be happening.

I rub my elbow, feeling the scabs that are covering the twelve-hour-old scrape on my elbow, given to me from the failed attempt at jumping the fence at the bus station.

Ryan wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it afterwards.

But, I totally get the laughing thing. Because when I fall, I make a fucking show of it. Stumbling afterwards, wining about being in pain, and being generally over dramatic.

But, when I got up, Ryan hugged me, and I thought he was being sentimental, which like, never happens. Except then he said, “If you make a scene, I’ll punch you in the neck.”

And that’s cool, because it didn’t really hurt that time.

“Stupid fuck.” I say to myself as I pulling into the school’s parking lot, parking in a visitor’s parking space, which will probably get me a ticket by the end of the day.

I bite my lip, closing my eyes to play out the previous night’s events in my head.

There was lots of alcohol, and lots of weed, and lots of touching, but lots of keeping clothes on.

I fucking love that I got kicked out.

It sounds ridiculous, but getting kicked out was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Living with Ryan is totally not what I thought it would be; we fight like cats and dogs, but I guess that means we’re doing something right, because what’s a good relationship without a couple of fights?

And it feels like I’m supposed to be there. Like, I wasn’t in the right place before, but this is a good place. It’s a new start, or whatever. In a totally not cliché way.

I’m planning on staying in the car for a while longer, but I get another text from Shane, “where the fuck are you?”

And I have to consciously will my heart to slow down, because I could probably stay with Ryan forever.