The Here and Now

Night fell quickly and much to my dismay as I forced the barely there fleece blanket over my chilled frame. The situation wasn’t helped much by the damp grass beneath me and unfortunately tonight, I was left to wonder on my own. My usual company had “previously” planned engagements, conveniently mentioned to me right as one of our biggest arguments had just come to an end. My mind was not in its proper state as his last sentence just barely audible above a whisper repeated over and over, endlessly in my head

“You can’t protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness, too.”

I sighed and smacked my chapped lips together, creating a soft pop before I allowed my eyelids to shut. As much as I loved this hill in the middle of seemingly nowhere, it was also as lonely as what I’d imagine being buried six feet under would be. Though technically at least then I’d likely have company just meters away in any direction. The worst of it all was me having to accept that Dylan was right. He’d always had exceptional advice, but had always been on my side, the us vs. them syndrome, as we lovingly called it. We equally despised the same subjects and had the longest, most inspirational debates I’m sure that the average person couldn’t even imagine.

I re-opened my eyes to catch a glimpse of the last view of stars I’d probably see all night, due to the massive army of clouds racing toward my direction. I hoped it’d rain.

My leg twitched involuntarily as the vibrations of my phone shook my thigh. Lazily, I took my time reaching for it, knowing exactly who it was on the other line. I wasn’t quite in the mood to be a. proved wrong again, because my pride has always been an issue for me or b. be lectured even more about my pessimism. Finally, I brought my phone up to my ear and accepted the call without saying a word.

“Lacey,” a stern voice spoke with a hint of his Michigan accent. That was our typical way of answering a phone, though I couldn’t recall when and why that had become a habit at the moment. I remained silent, which was followed shortly by his sigh. “Are you at the hill?”

“I am,” I replied meekly. “Why does it matter?”

“’S supposed to storm,” he trailed off, earning no response from myself. We remained in comfortable silence for at least two minutes. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine, Dylan,” I spoke, almost too quickly. I was a phenomenal liar, but he could always see through me no matter the situation.

“Lacey, please don’t be upset by what I said. It was meant to be something to think about, not take offense to. Come over, we can talk.”

As the first droplet of rain landed on the nape of my neck, my lips curved into a genuine smile. It dispersed as quickly as it came as my mind focused back to the here and now. “We can talk just fine here.”

“I want to see what your eyes have to say.” I felt my heart flutter. “You know that. If it helps, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“Not for what you said, though, right?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t want to continue feeling sorry for myself.

“No,” he said simply and honestly. “I have bourbon.” My pulse raced and I almost cursed at him, practically hearing his dominating smile over the small device. He had always known how to win me over.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. “You’re overly predictable, love. Doors’ unlocked.” He hung up without another word.

**********

I arrived at his petite flat a little under fifteen minutes later, drowned in water and also down half a pack of cigarettes. I knew Dylan’s distaste of the nicotine sticks, so I made sure to get my fix before entering his presence. Though he’d mentioned the door being locked, I patiently knocked anyway. Even entering my own apartment with my sister as my room mate made me feel obligated to give some sort of warning.

The porch light clicked on, temporarily blinding me before I heard the opening of a door. I blinked a couple times before staring up at Dylan, a near foots worth of height between us. He was sporting dark gym shorts and nothing else other than the multitude of permanent designs meticulously etched into his body. He smiled at me, reaching his Sasquatch-esqe arm out to lead me towards the living room, which I did without hesitation. I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off as I collapsed onto his pull out bed that was once a couch.

“Oi! You’re soaking wet!” he complained as I smiled and raised my feet up so he could remove my flats for me. He did so without an argument. I watched his colourful neck twitch in irritation that I knew he’d never reveal to me as he tossed my shoes into a pile of his own. He fell opposite of me and breathed deeply with his bright hands resting on his slowly rising belly. I caught his stare on me and sighed before rolling over to meet his eyes. His shit brown eyes, as I named them. He half smirked, causing a part of his newly cut, dirty blonde

“Your mullets looking nice,” I commented, receiving a playful jab from his right elbow. “What? I’m serious!”

He self-consciously patted down his rather lengthy rat tail before swishing his bangs out of his eyes. “It’s not a mullet, but thanks. Here, I have something for you.” Without skipping a beat he unveiled a bottle of smooth bourbon and a two liter of root beer along with two shot glasses and rested them on the stand nearest me. My eyes lit up immediately and I could feel myself begin to drool.

His soft chuckled echoed throughout the silent room, though the static from the muted telly had also caught my attention. Within moments I’d reached for the bottle, filled up both shot glasses to the brim, and raised mine in the air for our “first shot toast.” He blinked his deep eyes a few times before doing the same. “What to?”

“To...” I started, realizing I had usually let him say something as opposed to myself. “Me being sorry for being such an ass?” He laughed again, revealing his two sharp canine teeth.

“You weren’t an arse, just offended over something that wasn’t meant to be portrayed that way,” he explained, clinking his glass with mine before downing the shot in one swift motion. I followed him except and as quickly as I could took a few swigs of the soda. He never used a chaser, and if I didn’t I’d most certainly had thrown up. He waited a few moments before speaking, watching me set up round two. “What I meant is that if you’re putting up walls to make sure you aren’t sad, then you’re blocking out potential happiness. You can’t have just one or the other. It’s just the way life is.”

I twisted my lips into a knowing pout and downed the second shot by myself. I ignored the fact that my actions were proving my arrogance. “I know, Dylan. Sorry I got so upset.” He quickly took his own drink before wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into his chest, despite my sopping wet black hair strewed across his neck and face. My stomach began to burn and the bit of happiness I can still manage to find surfaced. I hiccupped just once and he stifled a small laugh.

He changed the subject immediately, recognizing that what I said was probably the best apology he was going to receive from me. “Wanna watch the Machinist?” I shrugged as he pulled me tighter and asked to hand him the remote. I did obediently as he ordered the movie and motioned towards the alcohol again.

**********

“The fuck are you doing?” I slurred lazily as I watched Dylan stumble back into the living room from the kitchen with a blender in hand. The plug was dragging across the floor and I was sure it was going to tangle around his ankle and force him to the ground. He coughed once then smiled toothily at me, one eye squinted shut.

“I wanna make mixed drinks, love,” he replied groggily, earning a booming laugh from myself. I was down to just my bra and some of his shorts he’d managed to find after twenty minutes of searching throughout his flat. He very slowly leaned over towards an electrical socket to plug in the appliance before looking up at me in confusion.

“They’re two liquids, drunkass. You don’t need a blender.”

He frowned for a few seconds before realization hit him and he responded with a simple “oh.” We were now three fourths done with the bottle and not even an hour into the movie. When he and I drank, we got very intoxicated and very quickly. “Well now we can look cool doing it, eh?”

“Sure, Dylan,” I smiled, pouring two more shots. What I was assuming would be the last we’d both drink before passing out. He jumped over every hurdle leading him back to the bed and did a barrel rolling, earning a shriek from me as one of the shots spilled on the shorts I was wearing. “Fuck!” I put the drinks down and stared at my lap, not sure what to do in my drunken state. Without missing a beat, I felt Dylan’s fingers clench around the waist band and quickly slide the shorts off me so I was in nothing but my lacey rose coloured undergarments. I felt a bubble rise from my stomach to my throat.

“Sorry,” he nodded as he rested one hand high up on my thigh. I grabbed his forearm and pulled him into me, lips crashing hard and lustfully into mine. He didn’t seem phased and quickly fell into beat with me, massaging lips until mine were sore and I pulled away. I eyed him wearily, smirk still playing across his lips. I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to ravish me at that moment, just by his eyes. It’s not like this was the first time we’d done this.

“Shot first,” I said, holding one finger up and re-pouring mine. I’d never seen a man move so swiftly to drink his and force mine down my throat before he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me on top of him, straddling his waist. His fingers traced designs up my ribs and stopped at my breasts, pulling the bra down to expose me. I bit my lip in excitement as he unhooked it altogether and dropped it to the floor.

“You’re looking sexy as ever, Lace,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

“Shut up,” I ordered as he tangled his hand into my hair and forced our lips together once again.