Sequel: Chasing Cars ›
Status: Complete
Let's Waste Time
Chapter Two
I woke up in the morning still lying on the couch. I was on my stomach with my face on a pillow, and a blanket draped over me. My hair was stuck to my face. I’d been drooling. And I had to look around in confusion for a moment before I figured out where I was and why I couldn’t see. I couldn’t remember pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, and I didn’t remember taking off my glasses and setting them on the table.
Which meant 81 with the black door probably did it for me. I lifted the blanket and looked down at my body just to check. But I was still wearing the oversized Star Wars shirt and gray sweatpants. He’d removed my glasses and covered me with a blanket. That was very sweet of him. I hoped I hadn’t drooled in front of him.
I stood up and stretched my arms behind my head. Despite sleeping on the couch, I’d actually slept okay. I was pretty sure it was just the booze and not the apple juice. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk but apparently just enough to help me sleep. I hadn’t told him that I was two months shy of it being legal. And it probably wasn’t any better than my habit of drinking cold medicine. I should probably look for a better alternative.
I shuffled into the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting the workday. When I was done, I headed into the bedroom to find something to wear.
I wasn’t talented in this department. I’d worn hand-me-down clothes throughout most of my childhood. In adulthood, I shopped at thrift stores and Walmart. And not cool vintage thrift stores either. I had a lot of discarded kid’s camp shirts and a couple of old lady dresses I wore to bed.
My hair was cut to just below my ears and as brown as brown could be. Sometimes, when I was bored with it, my friend Todd would dye it colors just to change things up. But he didn’t like doing it because he said I got too fidgety after a long time. So he’d never done my whole head.
I put on a beanie that covered most of that mess and then reached for my cheap faux leather boots. I scribbled a quick thank you note on a Post-It that read, “Thanks for the juice. Slept great. -81A.” Then I grabbed my bag and my laptop and left the apartment. I slapped the note on 81’s door before I left.
I usually liked to start my mornings with a fresh cup of coffee. I won’t say it’s because I was cool, and that’s why I walked a few blocks away for the good stuff from a locally owned brewer. Because then I’d be lying. I chose to do this every morning because walking to the coffee shop took less of my energy than making my own. Also, I didn’t like regular coffee. I liked when it was over-sugared and tasted like candy. And the baristas knew precisely how many sugary pumps I wanted in my morning cup.
I could also say that I chose to walk to get exercise and cut back on pollution. But that would also be a lie. The truth was that I didn’t own a car, couldn’t afford a cab, and hated busses. Cable cars were just too full of pushy tourists to even consider.
I got to the shop and ordered myself some coffee and a pastry that probably had more calories than a triple-layer chocolate cake. Then I took them to a table and pulled my laptop out. And that was pretty much my life. I drank coffee in the mornings—cold medicine at night. And I worked until I got bored with the scenery and headed home.
I logged out when I got to my first break and then got one more coffee for the road. When I got back to my apartment, there was a yellow Post-It on my door. It said, “Glad it helped. Lord of the Rings at 6. Pizza, beer. Join me? -81” The boy was speaking my language.
Thankfully, it never occurred to me that this might be an invitation for a date. One, because we’d already established that we were both seeing other people. And two, because he was a big jock type. He was probably just hanging out with me to waste time before hanging out with his cool friends.
I decided to accept the invitation for three reasons. One, I liked beer. Two, I liked pizza. And three, I liked Lord of the Rings. So I wrote a quick, “Sure,” on the bottom and stuck it back on his door.
Which meant 81 with the black door probably did it for me. I lifted the blanket and looked down at my body just to check. But I was still wearing the oversized Star Wars shirt and gray sweatpants. He’d removed my glasses and covered me with a blanket. That was very sweet of him. I hoped I hadn’t drooled in front of him.
I stood up and stretched my arms behind my head. Despite sleeping on the couch, I’d actually slept okay. I was pretty sure it was just the booze and not the apple juice. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk but apparently just enough to help me sleep. I hadn’t told him that I was two months shy of it being legal. And it probably wasn’t any better than my habit of drinking cold medicine. I should probably look for a better alternative.
I shuffled into the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting the workday. When I was done, I headed into the bedroom to find something to wear.
I wasn’t talented in this department. I’d worn hand-me-down clothes throughout most of my childhood. In adulthood, I shopped at thrift stores and Walmart. And not cool vintage thrift stores either. I had a lot of discarded kid’s camp shirts and a couple of old lady dresses I wore to bed.
My hair was cut to just below my ears and as brown as brown could be. Sometimes, when I was bored with it, my friend Todd would dye it colors just to change things up. But he didn’t like doing it because he said I got too fidgety after a long time. So he’d never done my whole head.
I put on a beanie that covered most of that mess and then reached for my cheap faux leather boots. I scribbled a quick thank you note on a Post-It that read, “Thanks for the juice. Slept great. -81A.” Then I grabbed my bag and my laptop and left the apartment. I slapped the note on 81’s door before I left.
I usually liked to start my mornings with a fresh cup of coffee. I won’t say it’s because I was cool, and that’s why I walked a few blocks away for the good stuff from a locally owned brewer. Because then I’d be lying. I chose to do this every morning because walking to the coffee shop took less of my energy than making my own. Also, I didn’t like regular coffee. I liked when it was over-sugared and tasted like candy. And the baristas knew precisely how many sugary pumps I wanted in my morning cup.
I could also say that I chose to walk to get exercise and cut back on pollution. But that would also be a lie. The truth was that I didn’t own a car, couldn’t afford a cab, and hated busses. Cable cars were just too full of pushy tourists to even consider.
I got to the shop and ordered myself some coffee and a pastry that probably had more calories than a triple-layer chocolate cake. Then I took them to a table and pulled my laptop out. And that was pretty much my life. I drank coffee in the mornings—cold medicine at night. And I worked until I got bored with the scenery and headed home.
I logged out when I got to my first break and then got one more coffee for the road. When I got back to my apartment, there was a yellow Post-It on my door. It said, “Glad it helped. Lord of the Rings at 6. Pizza, beer. Join me? -81” The boy was speaking my language.
Thankfully, it never occurred to me that this might be an invitation for a date. One, because we’d already established that we were both seeing other people. And two, because he was a big jock type. He was probably just hanging out with me to waste time before hanging out with his cool friends.
I decided to accept the invitation for three reasons. One, I liked beer. Two, I liked pizza. And three, I liked Lord of the Rings. So I wrote a quick, “Sure,” on the bottom and stuck it back on his door.