I Think You Could Do Much Better Than Me

Rose

My feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk at an increasing pace. School had just let out a few minutes earlier and I was on my way to James' house. “Just a few more blocks I thought to myself as I continues down the narrow sidewalk.

The November air was a bit chilly, but wasn't cold enough for the need of a jacket. My pale arms hung by my sides as my legs move swiftly in the direction of James' house.

I walked up the driveway. Stopping at the door, I gave a few light knocks. Some shuffles were heard inside, then locks being clicked, before revealing the tall, blonde boy, James. He looked at me from behind the rims of his small, black glasses. “Hey Rosy,” He smiled warmly letting me into his house.

I stepped into the house and made my way into the living room. I took a seat on the brown, leather loveseat that sat next to the couch. James walked off to another part of his cozy, little house.

Honestly, James didn't have the “drug dealer” look. He looked clean of drugs and always had his house cleaned and straightened. His house and himself could be very deceiving, though.

James eyes were an emerald green and would usually be lined with the rims of glasses. He needed them to see small detail. His lips were thin and wide, but fit him perfectly; he was always smiling or laughing. James was naturally blonde, but dyed his hair other shades of blonde other than his original dirty shade resulting in a mixed blonde.

James came back into the living room which was illuminated by the sun outside. He handed a crumpled, brown paper bag to me. I took a peek inside checking for all the contents I had asked for. “Thanks Jamie.”

He crinkled his nose at the pet name. “No problem,” He took a seat on the unoccupied couch before resting his feet on the wooden coffee table, “Hey, you want to stay for a while and do some shots or something?”

“That sounds awesome,” I nodded my head eagerly.

A small smile escaped his lips, “You mind getting the stuff from the kitchen?” I shook my head, “The Jack's in the fridge and the glasses are in the pantry above the microwave.”

I got up from my comfortable seat on the loveseat and went into the kitchen. I fished the shot glasses from the pantry, then proceeded to get the Jack Daniels from the ice box. I searched through the refrigerator looking for any kind of chaser that would cool the burning liquor down both our throats.

“James,” I called loudly, “What flavor drink do you want?

“Uh, are there any cokes in there?”

“Nah,” I replied, “You have Sierra Mist and Dr. Pepper.”

I heard him make a click sound with his mouth before answering Dr. Pepper. I grabbed a Sierra Mist for myself and with full hands, made my way back into the living room.

James still sat in the same position he was when I exited the room. Eyes closed, his legs sprawled out across the coffee table, but crossed in a comfortable manor, and head resting on the cushions of the couch.

I set the cups, sodas, and alcohol beside the space where Jame's feet were currently occupied. He leaned forward from his comfortable posture, letting his legs fall to the soft, carpeted floor. He yawned quietly, then poured us both a shot glass full of Jack, while I popped both cans of soda open. I took a place on the couch next to James. We both picked up shot glasses and chugged the sweet, burning liquid. I picked up my chaser and took a few, small sips.

“Really?” James laughed, “You can't do one shot without chasing it?”

“Fuck you,” I swore at him, slugging him in the arm, “You know I can go more than one shot without chasing.”

His chuckles continued while he poured us both another shot. I downed it easily and didn't feel the need to chase the strong liquor.

“You can't go much longer without chasing,” He said matter-of-factly.

“I might not be able to go a long time without chasing, but I know I can go longer than you before I even touch my drink.”

“We'll see.”

**

Several shots later, I was pretty drunk and still hadn't drank any of my soda. James desperately reached for his soda after doing a last shot. He gulped down the Dr. Pepper in huge amounts and didn't stop until the can was drained completely.

I snickered, “That explains who the pansy is.”

James shot a glare at me and flipped me off, then stood from the couch. He reached out a hand to help me up, which I took with much appreciation. James steadied my figure once I was standing, but it didn't help my dizzy, blurry vision.

I stumbled through the archway of the living room and staggered to the door.

“You want me to walk you home?” James called from the living room.

I managed to slur back to him a no. He bid me farewells for the moment and I took off to my house.

I stepped in the chilled air once more for the day. The sun had finally set and the sky was beginning to darken. I shuffled my feet down the sidewalk slowly as I walked home. I felt some of the bigger pieces of gravel roll beneath my shoes as I walked, but really paid no attention to it or to where I was going.

It wasn't until I walked to the corner of two very familiar streets, that I noticed I had passed my house by just a few feet. I tore my drunken gaze from the ground and forced myself to pay attention. At least until I got into the safety of my home.