Dirtbag
TOO LATE FOR FRUIT; TOO SOON FOR FLOWERS
We’re on Hanson’s porch. She said she wanted to get away from all of the noise, but I hoping it was something else.
“Your friend has an awesome view,” she says sarcastically. “I mean, I've never been to this side of town, but wow. Serious potential.” She stands up against the rail, showing off her ass. I feel like a fourteen-year-old kid going through puberty all over again.
“Hanson believes in only having what you need,” I explain, even though this is the complete opposite of the truth. Hanson always wants more.
“Hanson,” Casey repeats slowly. “Holy shit, I think he was trying to get in my pants one night at Raine! You’re friends with that kid?”
Usually it’s always been the other way around—people ask him this. You’re friends with that Trenton kid? I don’t know if Casey is disgusted by this or interested, but I honestly hope it’s the first one. Hanson only uses girls to rave about the sex to me and Fergus.
“Since fifth grade,” I answer.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I just don’t get it,” Casey says. “You’re so nice. What, is that a bad thing?” She’s asking this after catching me cringe.
“ I've always been known as ‘nice’,” I tell her, “and that hasn't gotten me anywhere.”
I turn around to find Casey’s body standing really close next to mine. If I accidently moved a fingertip slightly it would be touching her leg. Vanilla is hanging around my nostrils and her lips are—
“Case?” It’s Gus, the greasy loser.
“Hey,” she says, and just like that she’s gone. “Wait! Jack, give me your phone.”
“Uh—” Casey cuts me off and grabs it out of my hand, punches a few keys, then gives it back.
“Call me, Jack Trenton!”
It’s that first sweet smile. I’m hooked.
“Your friend has an awesome view,” she says sarcastically. “I mean, I've never been to this side of town, but wow. Serious potential.” She stands up against the rail, showing off her ass. I feel like a fourteen-year-old kid going through puberty all over again.
“Hanson believes in only having what you need,” I explain, even though this is the complete opposite of the truth. Hanson always wants more.
“Hanson,” Casey repeats slowly. “Holy shit, I think he was trying to get in my pants one night at Raine! You’re friends with that kid?”
Usually it’s always been the other way around—people ask him this. You’re friends with that Trenton kid? I don’t know if Casey is disgusted by this or interested, but I honestly hope it’s the first one. Hanson only uses girls to rave about the sex to me and Fergus.
“Since fifth grade,” I answer.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I just don’t get it,” Casey says. “You’re so nice. What, is that a bad thing?” She’s asking this after catching me cringe.
“ I've always been known as ‘nice’,” I tell her, “and that hasn't gotten me anywhere.”
I turn around to find Casey’s body standing really close next to mine. If I accidently moved a fingertip slightly it would be touching her leg. Vanilla is hanging around my nostrils and her lips are—
“Case?” It’s Gus, the greasy loser.
“Hey,” she says, and just like that she’s gone. “Wait! Jack, give me your phone.”
“Uh—” Casey cuts me off and grabs it out of my hand, punches a few keys, then gives it back.
“Call me, Jack Trenton!”
It’s that first sweet smile. I’m hooked.