DaySleeper

Mark likes me, and it is painfully obvious. Especially so because he gives me packs of cigarettes free on random occasions, which is really nice because it’s the most expensive habit I would ever dare to have. There’s also the whole drunk dialing thing. It’s kind of old, but sweet in a pathetic way. Kane, my boyfriend of a couple of months, hates it, and by association hates Mark. I don’t care either way.

“Cade, please, come over,” Mark slurs. I wonder which bar he’s at right now.

“No,” I reply. It’s easy to say no to him.

“But—”

“No,” I say again, rolling my eyes, “Listen, you’re too old for me.”

“It’s only three years!” he says in a moment of clarity.

“Who you talking to?” Kane asks, entering the living room. I roll my eyes.

“Mark, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you at the store tomorrow morning. Don’t die.” I say. Kane growls. Boys call me. He doesn’t like it. I like to rile him up.

“Cadence!” Mark slurs loudly. I hang up.

“Drunk,” I assure Kane. He stares at me.

“Why do you talk to him?” he asks.

“He’s nice,” I say, as Kane sits down. I edge closer. He pushes me away a bit. I act unaffected. “Plus, he gives me free cigs.”

“I don’t like you leading guys on. We’re dating, not you and… them,” Kane says.

“Well I don’t like it when words come out of that fat mouth of yours,” I snap, smirking at him. His face reddens in anger, and then he pushes me down, flat on the couch.

~
Mark has an entire carton of Marlboro waiting for me. I smile and lean over the counter to hold a hushed conversation.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Mark says sheepishly, “Kane doesn’t like me. I know. I probably made you guys fight.”

I smile a bit, sadly. The more I let him think he’s ruining shit for me, and I’m being a kind little boy, he’ll do things for me. Life is easier this way.

“No, don’t worry about it,” I assure him, my tone sickeningly sweet, “You weren’t a hassle. Me and Kane will make up later. We always do.”

I bite my lip. He takes this the way I intended, and exactly how I hoped he would. Guilt trip.

“I’m so sorry!” he says fervently. The store is empty, I take note.

“Don’t be! I’m sure he won’t be mad anymore tonight or tomorrow… We’re friends, I don’t want to leave you out for him,” I say. I really should be in movies.

“I won’t call again!” he says, “I’ll leave my phone at home—”

“Don’t you dare!” I say suddenly. He freezes and I scramble. “What if something happens? You need a phone!” I recover. Really, he’d be fine, but let him think I’ll lie awake at night at the thought of him without a cell phone in the big, bad city. I decide to put the icing on the cake, metaphorically. “I would rather Kane and I fight every single night than you be in danger,” I whisper. He flushes.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“You are the sweetest guy I have ever met in my entire life,” he whispers, eyes wide and sparkling. I manage to blush.

And the Oscar goes to…