Young
Garrett
I was just about pissing myself in anticipation to meet Kelly. If you think that’s gross, I don’t care, because that’s just how excited I was. Pat was laughing at me and the way I was looking around the house like a fucking meerkat in search of Kelly.
“Don’t be overly enthusiastic,” Becca said, “she hates that.”
I just looked at her. I had to do what she said, because she knew what she was talking about. Kelly was her best friend, after all. I figured they had to have something in common to be best friends. Isn’t that how it worked? I hoped they did. My best friend’s girlfriend was one of the coolest people I’d ever met. Pat had done a good job getting himself that one. Becca was fucking awesome.
“He’s gonna piss himself,” Pat joked, “look at him.” Becca snorted in laughter before hollering across the room at Kelly.
“Hey, Chile!” she screamed over the loud music. I looked at her, confused, wondering what kind of a nickname ‘Chile’ was and just how Kelly had been stuck with it. Kelly looked over in our direction before jumping down off the kitchen bench she was sitting on and making her way over to us. When she reached us, her eyes fell on me briefly, a bored expression on her face, before she looked at Becca again.
“I’m Garrett Nickelsen,” I said, holding my hand out for Kelly to shake. She just looked at my hand and then she looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Kelly,” she said. I nodded. “I know who you are,” I said. Becca shot me a look. I mentally slapped myself in the face for sounding so stupid.
“I guess that makes me sort of famous, then,” she said. “Picture or autograph?” A hint of a smile lingered on her lips and it was then that I realised she was being sarcastic. I grinned at her and asked her if she wanted to dance. She just stared at me, as if considering her options, before she handed her drink to Pat for him to hold for her.
“Oh, fuck it,” she said. “You’re on.”
I took her hand and lead her to the middle of the dance floor, amidst multiple gyrating, sweating, adolescent bodies. Just as we were about to join them, the song switched to something much slower, and Kelly raised her eyebrows at me.
“I didn’t plan this!” I said. She just laughed before wrapping her arms around my neck and stepping closer to me.
“Let’s see those hips move, Nickelsen,” she said with a slow smile. I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on her hips, swaying with the music. Ten minutes in, we were interrupted by the raised voice of John O’Callaghan. I shook my head and looked over to where his voice was coming from.
My eyes landed on the skinny lead singer of our band, busily yelling at a girl with black hair, who was yelling right back at him. Marianna. The two had been friends for years, if that was even the word for it. They were kind of half way between friends and enemies, and on any given day it could go either way. They never agreed on anything, and it was obvious to everyone but them that they were completely in love with each other.
They both maintained that they had a deep loathing for each other. Marianna slapped me once when I told her that John wanted to bone her. They were always arguing, but everyone figured they’d work it out for themselves one day.
“You’re completely wrong, Marianna! There is no way that guy is even close to being genuinely interested in your personality.” John was obviously irritated, his face reddening.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Marianna hissed, “you know that?”
“Even if I didn’t, I’m sure you’d be the first to inform me.”
“Fuck you, John O’Callaghan,” Marianna said, turning on her heel to stalk out the front door.
“Fuck you, too!” John called after her, before turning to make his way over to where Pat and Becca were standing. Everyone at the party was staring at him, but he didn’t care. The DJ changed to an upbeat song, and the party was kick-started once again.
“Wow,” Kelly said. “Are they always like that?”
“Always,” I replied with a smile. “John is a difficult person to get along with.”
“Wait, that was John O’Callaghan?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve heard of him.”
“Don’t be overly enthusiastic,” Becca said, “she hates that.”
I just looked at her. I had to do what she said, because she knew what she was talking about. Kelly was her best friend, after all. I figured they had to have something in common to be best friends. Isn’t that how it worked? I hoped they did. My best friend’s girlfriend was one of the coolest people I’d ever met. Pat had done a good job getting himself that one. Becca was fucking awesome.
“He’s gonna piss himself,” Pat joked, “look at him.” Becca snorted in laughter before hollering across the room at Kelly.
“Hey, Chile!” she screamed over the loud music. I looked at her, confused, wondering what kind of a nickname ‘Chile’ was and just how Kelly had been stuck with it. Kelly looked over in our direction before jumping down off the kitchen bench she was sitting on and making her way over to us. When she reached us, her eyes fell on me briefly, a bored expression on her face, before she looked at Becca again.
“I’m Garrett Nickelsen,” I said, holding my hand out for Kelly to shake. She just looked at my hand and then she looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Kelly,” she said. I nodded. “I know who you are,” I said. Becca shot me a look. I mentally slapped myself in the face for sounding so stupid.
“I guess that makes me sort of famous, then,” she said. “Picture or autograph?” A hint of a smile lingered on her lips and it was then that I realised she was being sarcastic. I grinned at her and asked her if she wanted to dance. She just stared at me, as if considering her options, before she handed her drink to Pat for him to hold for her.
“Oh, fuck it,” she said. “You’re on.”
I took her hand and lead her to the middle of the dance floor, amidst multiple gyrating, sweating, adolescent bodies. Just as we were about to join them, the song switched to something much slower, and Kelly raised her eyebrows at me.
“I didn’t plan this!” I said. She just laughed before wrapping her arms around my neck and stepping closer to me.
“Let’s see those hips move, Nickelsen,” she said with a slow smile. I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on her hips, swaying with the music. Ten minutes in, we were interrupted by the raised voice of John O’Callaghan. I shook my head and looked over to where his voice was coming from.
My eyes landed on the skinny lead singer of our band, busily yelling at a girl with black hair, who was yelling right back at him. Marianna. The two had been friends for years, if that was even the word for it. They were kind of half way between friends and enemies, and on any given day it could go either way. They never agreed on anything, and it was obvious to everyone but them that they were completely in love with each other.
They both maintained that they had a deep loathing for each other. Marianna slapped me once when I told her that John wanted to bone her. They were always arguing, but everyone figured they’d work it out for themselves one day.
“You’re completely wrong, Marianna! There is no way that guy is even close to being genuinely interested in your personality.” John was obviously irritated, his face reddening.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Marianna hissed, “you know that?”
“Even if I didn’t, I’m sure you’d be the first to inform me.”
“Fuck you, John O’Callaghan,” Marianna said, turning on her heel to stalk out the front door.
“Fuck you, too!” John called after her, before turning to make his way over to where Pat and Becca were standing. Everyone at the party was staring at him, but he didn’t care. The DJ changed to an upbeat song, and the party was kick-started once again.
“Wow,” Kelly said. “Are they always like that?”
“Always,” I replied with a smile. “John is a difficult person to get along with.”
“Wait, that was John O’Callaghan?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve heard of him.”
♠ ♠ ♠
hi marianna