Blue And Yellow

That night I tossed and turned. I had no plan after check out tomorrow. Nowhere to go. I supposed that was stupid of me. I pictured John rolling his eyes at me for being so poorly prepared, saying somethig snarky like, "I thought you had it ALL figured out." I got intensely angry at the thought of him, so I shoved him aside, closed my eyes, and drifted into the unknown.

That morning, I called up my friend Greg.
"Amy fucking Lynn. It's been weeks!" he laughed as when he answered.
"Hi Greg. I'm in town for a week. I'm just kinda hanging out I guess. Living in my car." I laughed. Let's be honest, I was playing him like a fiddle so he'd invite me to come stay.
"Hey well why don't you come crash here for the week?" he said.
Score, "If you reallly don't mind." I played it off.
"Naww I don't have anything to do anyways. Come stay. We can talk about life and play guitar. Hey, how's Johnny Ohh?" he asked.
"He's great. Okay, I'm on my way." I avoided more talk about John and hung up.

When I got to Greg's house he greeted me outside with a huge hug. 
"It's so good to see you again." he smiled.
"You too Greg. How has everything been?" 
"Great, I've been really good." he led me inside. He showed me my room.
"There's a bathroom in here too so if you want to shower, go right ahead. We can go out for pizza tonight like always!" he grinned.
"Thanks Greggy." I wrapped my arms around him. Greg and I had been close since I met him at a party through John. He was tall and slender, and built like John but had black hair and scruff on his chin and light brown eyes. He looked like Adam Lazzara. I had always had a crush on Greg, but nothing too serious. I just admired who he was.

Greg popped open a bottle of tequila at about 10:30 and we sat on my bed and drank and talked about nonscense for an hour. When Greg left I slipped off my clothes and got in the shower. As I was putting soap in my hair I heard the bathroom door open. Greg walked in wearing nothing but his boxers. He grinned at me and got in the shower. I had a 30 second panic attack, but that's all Greg allowed me because he slammed his lips against mine. I didn't protest. I was beyond drunk, confused, and I didn't give a fuck about anything.  His tongue slid into my mouth and his hands made their way to my hips. He started kissing my neck. 
"Greg, knock it offfff." I moaned and pushed him back as he bit my neck. He retreated, and went back to his room. I slid down the shower wall, cursing at myself. Why the FUCK was life giving me more confusion? 
"I just want John." I said outloud. I finally admitted it to myself. Drunkenly admitted that he's all I want. Kissing Greg felt gross and wrong. Everytime I drunkenly made out with John, I felt okay when it was done. And it took me that long to realize it. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around me, and called John.
"What the fuck, it's like 1 am." he groggly answered.
"I'm sorry." I drunkenly laughed.
"Are you drunk?" I could hear the frustration in his voice start up.
"Tequila. I'm with Greggggg." I slurred. I tried to compose myself a little.
"Oh fucking great." he sighed. I heard him get out of bed and scratch his neck. He always scratched his neck when he was stressed.
"John I'm coming home tomorrow. I need you." I felt a tingly feeling in my stomach. 
"You're fucking drunk. Don't talk to me about what you need when you're drunk." he snapped. I knew he was pissed and I started to get upset.
"Don't get frustrated with me John. Greg tried to fuck me in the shower and I realized all I want is to be back home." I spat out. Fucking run on sentences. 
"He tried to fuck you in the shower." he repeated me. "Well isn't that special."
"John please I..." I stopped.
"You what?" he snapped.
"I admit it. You were right. You're always right. I'm coming home tomorrow." I sighed. I finally broke.

As I pulled up to John's house that afternoon I was relieved my hangover was gone. I had drove it off. Greg understood why I left, apologized for last night, and we made ammends. It was stupid to be mad at him, so I wasn't. John, however, looked pissed as he stood there with his arms crossed, tapping his foot and staring at me.
I got out of my car. 
"I'm sorry!" I yelled from across the street. He shrugged and continued standing there. I ran across the street and stood in front of him.
"John." I said flatly.
The sides of his mouth started to go upwards. I could tell he was trying his hardest not to smile. He wrinkled his forehead. I smiled at him and he bursted into laughter.
"I'm always right!" he laughed.
"Excuse me John. That's not fair!" I laughed with him. His eyes were watering now, and his laugh turned into a serious look. I stopped laughing.
"Don't you ever, in the rest of your life, do that bullshit to me again. Do you understand? What would I have done if.. I can't even think about it. It makes me sick. Do you know what I did the night you left? I fucking puked. You fucking bitch!" he turned and went inside, slamming the door in my face. I smelt the booze on his breath, but I knew he was serious. He had never, in all the years I knew him, called me a bitch before. I also knew he wasn't that drunk, just a little tipsy, so he meant every word. 
"John.." I tapped on the door.
He opened the door again, taking a swig from the Captain Morgan bottle.
"It's six pm, don't judge me." he spat.
"I'm not." I grabbed the bottle from his hand, pushed him back into his house, closed the door with my foot, and kissed him up against the wall.