You Had Me at "I Hate You"
14
1 WEEK LATER...
A puff of cologne hung around Linc as he sprinted out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a towel, and his hair hung wet and limp around his ears. He sprinted into our room and slammed the door.
A few seconds later, he emerged in a crisp, button-down shirt. A smart black sports jacket was clutched in his hand. He slipped on some socks, and did the laces of his shoes up, double time.
I cast a sidelong glance towards him from the couch, dog-earing my place in the book I was reading.
"Hey, Linc?" I asked.
"What?" he cried, tense.
"Where's the fire?" I teased.
He rolled his eyes and dashed back into the bathroom. I heard the sounds of a hair dryer, and the clack of the cap of his hair wax bottle's cap being opened.
He emerged again, and raced into the kitchen, snatched a bottle of water, and drained it in a single drag.
"Hey, while you're in there," I shouted to him, turning back to my book. "Can you get me a slice of that cold pizza?"
"Yeah," he muttered, not really paying attention. "Here. Catch."
He tossed something at me, and, as an unconscious reflex, I raised my hand and caught it in mid-air.
"Linc..." I said slowly, examining the item I'd just caught. "This is a tomato."
"Yeah, that's what you asked for, wasn't it?" He cried, tugging on his jacket.
"No! I asked for pizza!"
"Well, get your own damn food! I'm late!"
"Jesus, Linc!" I exclaimed. "What's the rush?"
"Job interview!" he gasped, severely out of breath from running around the apartment.
"What?"
I could hardly breathe. Lincoln Fletcher was looking for a job? A job?!
"Yeah, whoop-de-doo!" he shouted. "Have you seen my keys?"
Automatically, I reached between the seat cushions of the couch. Somehow, everything that disappears in this apartment ends up in the couch.
"Yeah. Right here," I said, and tossed them to him.
He caught the silver keys, shoved them in his jacket pocket.
I only raised my head to look at his entire outfit just as he was about to go out the door.
"WAIT! LINC!" I cried.
The door slammed behind him. Seconds later, it popped open again.
"Yeah? What?" he asked, obviously rushed.
"Pants, Honey... Pants."
He looked down at his Spongebob boxers.
"Oh. Right. Pants. Pants would be good," he said, his face flushing.
He dashed back in the house, and into our room. When he emerged into the living room for the last time, he stood in front of me, and spun like a model.
"How do I look?" he asked, nervous.
"Good..." I said slowly, scrutinizing him.
I got up, approached him, and began to fix minor details. I flattened the sitcky-outy party of the back of his hair and straightened his tie.
"So what's this interview for?"
"A spot at this really cool indie animation studio. At first, I'll just be the errand boy, running around, delivering messages and getting people coffee... but, after a while... They might let me help out with the computers... Maybe even work a bit on a current project," he babbled eagerly.
I was amazed. He'd really found something he wanted to do.
"That sounds really awesome!" I encouraged. "So you like animation?"
"Yeah, animation's cool... But I like computers better. I don't know if you've heard... But I'm a whizz with a hard drive-"
I interrupted his boasting. "Yeah, Linc. I know. You created a virus, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Right."
One last final touch... I fixed his collar.
"Hurry, hurry..." he whined.
"Okay..." I mumbled. "I'm done. You're good to go!"
He took off towards the door, and I caught him again before he was able to open it.
"Wait!" I called. He turned back.
"What now?!"
"Hug for luck!" I cried, and ran up to him.
I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.
"Kick some ass!" I wished him.
"Thanks!" he said, and whorled around, racing out the door.
I sighed.
Well, I've got to hand it to him. If nothing else, Lincoln is interesting.
A puff of cologne hung around Linc as he sprinted out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a towel, and his hair hung wet and limp around his ears. He sprinted into our room and slammed the door.
A few seconds later, he emerged in a crisp, button-down shirt. A smart black sports jacket was clutched in his hand. He slipped on some socks, and did the laces of his shoes up, double time.
I cast a sidelong glance towards him from the couch, dog-earing my place in the book I was reading.
"Hey, Linc?" I asked.
"What?" he cried, tense.
"Where's the fire?" I teased.
He rolled his eyes and dashed back into the bathroom. I heard the sounds of a hair dryer, and the clack of the cap of his hair wax bottle's cap being opened.
He emerged again, and raced into the kitchen, snatched a bottle of water, and drained it in a single drag.
"Hey, while you're in there," I shouted to him, turning back to my book. "Can you get me a slice of that cold pizza?"
"Yeah," he muttered, not really paying attention. "Here. Catch."
He tossed something at me, and, as an unconscious reflex, I raised my hand and caught it in mid-air.
"Linc..." I said slowly, examining the item I'd just caught. "This is a tomato."
"Yeah, that's what you asked for, wasn't it?" He cried, tugging on his jacket.
"No! I asked for pizza!"
"Well, get your own damn food! I'm late!"
"Jesus, Linc!" I exclaimed. "What's the rush?"
"Job interview!" he gasped, severely out of breath from running around the apartment.
"What?"
I could hardly breathe. Lincoln Fletcher was looking for a job? A job?!
"Yeah, whoop-de-doo!" he shouted. "Have you seen my keys?"
Automatically, I reached between the seat cushions of the couch. Somehow, everything that disappears in this apartment ends up in the couch.
"Yeah. Right here," I said, and tossed them to him.
He caught the silver keys, shoved them in his jacket pocket.
I only raised my head to look at his entire outfit just as he was about to go out the door.
"WAIT! LINC!" I cried.
The door slammed behind him. Seconds later, it popped open again.
"Yeah? What?" he asked, obviously rushed.
"Pants, Honey... Pants."
He looked down at his Spongebob boxers.
"Oh. Right. Pants. Pants would be good," he said, his face flushing.
He dashed back in the house, and into our room. When he emerged into the living room for the last time, he stood in front of me, and spun like a model.
"How do I look?" he asked, nervous.
"Good..." I said slowly, scrutinizing him.
I got up, approached him, and began to fix minor details. I flattened the sitcky-outy party of the back of his hair and straightened his tie.
"So what's this interview for?"
"A spot at this really cool indie animation studio. At first, I'll just be the errand boy, running around, delivering messages and getting people coffee... but, after a while... They might let me help out with the computers... Maybe even work a bit on a current project," he babbled eagerly.
I was amazed. He'd really found something he wanted to do.
"That sounds really awesome!" I encouraged. "So you like animation?"
"Yeah, animation's cool... But I like computers better. I don't know if you've heard... But I'm a whizz with a hard drive-"
I interrupted his boasting. "Yeah, Linc. I know. You created a virus, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Right."
One last final touch... I fixed his collar.
"Hurry, hurry..." he whined.
"Okay..." I mumbled. "I'm done. You're good to go!"
He took off towards the door, and I caught him again before he was able to open it.
"Wait!" I called. He turned back.
"What now?!"
"Hug for luck!" I cried, and ran up to him.
I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.
"Kick some ass!" I wished him.
"Thanks!" he said, and whorled around, racing out the door.
I sighed.
Well, I've got to hand it to him. If nothing else, Lincoln is interesting.