That One Night

“How you feeling, Bren?”

“Go away,” Brendon groans, turning on his side and pulling the comforter over his head.

“Come on, it’s two in the afternoon already. You need to get up. I have some Advil if you’re hung over.”

“I’m not,” Brendon’s voice comes from under the blanket.

“You sure? Because you were gone last night, dude.”

“Jon. Shut up. I’m not hung over,” he says, throwing the blanket off of him and sitting up. He grimaces, then falls back down onto the pillow. “Just kidding. Definitely hung over.”

“Thought so,” Jon smirks, placing two pills in Brendon’s outstretched hand.

“No water? You hoe.”

“Right there,” Jon says, pointing to the nightstand, used to Brendon’s abusive language when he’s hung over. He watches as Brendon downs the pills and the entire glass of water, falling back on the bed.

“So…,” Jon says, smiling as if he’s trying to hold back laughter. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Shut up.”

“What?” he laughs. “I’m just asking if you remember--”

“Shut up. Yes, I remember. Sort of. I don’t know. I wish I didn’t. I don’t want to think about it. Go away.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. He was…good looking, right?”

“He was gorgeous, Jon! I think. Ugh, that just makes it ever worse!”

“Really, it’s not that bad,” Jon says.

“You obviously have no idea what you’re talking about! He was like, the image of perfection, okay? And then I…screwed it up! And I didn’t even get his name!”

“Well, I think…according to your arm, his name was Ryan. And he wanted you to call him,” Jon points out, and Brendon glances down at his forearm seeing the words “Call me! --Ryan” written in black marker, followed by a phone number.

“How’d that get there?” Brendon mumbles.

“So was that before or after the whole--”

“Jon, shut up! …Before.”

“Yeah, I figured, because you came running to me right after. So do you think he still wants you to call him?”

“Would you want me to call you after what happened?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be doing whatever it was that he was doing with you in the first place,” Jon says.

“Okay,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes, not amused. “If you gave a girl your number and then what happened happened, would you still want her to call you?”

“Usually it’s the girl that gives the guy her number.”

“Jon! You aren’t helping!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to be helping?”

“Jon!” Brendon whines, pushing his bottom lip out into a pout.

“I think you should call him,” Jon decides.

“What?! No way! I can’t call him! Are you crazy?!” Brendon practically yells and Jon sighs, shaking his head.

“You asked for my help.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d give stupid help.”

“You’re very grumpy when hung over,” Jon comments.

“You’d be grumpy, too, if you had the night that I had last night, okay? Not only did I experience the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, I also ruined the fact that I was about to get laid. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, Jon? Months! Months, okay? Months. It’s been so long that I’m close to giving myself carpal tunnel syndrome!”

“Why don’t you like, buy a dildo or something?”

“Jon!”

“Sorry. I was just trying to help you out with your carpal tunnel.”

“That’s not what I need help with,” Brendon says.

“I still think you should call…what was his name again? Oh yeah, Ryan,” Jon says, reading Brendon’s arms. “Oh my god, no way.”

“What?!” Brendon asks, and Jon looks closer at the number on Brendon’s arm before bursting out with laughter.

“That’s Ryan Ross!”

“What? Who’s Ryan Ross?!”

“Spencer’s roommate-slash-best friend!” Jon answers, still laughing hysterically.

“Spencer…as in your best friend after me, Spencer? Like, number three on your MySpace friends after Cassie and me? The one whose profile I always try to look at but can’t because it’s always set to private?”

“Yes!” Jon laughs, then stops, looking at Brendon. “And that’s kind of creepy.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just sayin’. So, uh. Ryan Ross. Wow. So it was him that you--”

“Shut up, Jon.”

“Sorry, sorry. Wow. I didn’t even know that he was gay.”

“Maybe he’s bi. Or curious. Or he could have just been really, really drunk.”

“Well, did he aim for vagina and get dick before he settled for ass?” Jon asks.

“I don’t know, we didn’t get that far,” Brendon grumbles.

“You mean It happened before there was even any like,…humping?!”

“That’s it, I’m done with this conversation,” Brendon says.

“Oh, come on! You know I’m just teasing.”

“Well, I don’t enjoy it. So…I’m done.”

“You know,” Jon smiles. “I’m probably going to see Ryan in the near future.”

“…You wouldn’t dare say anything,” Brendon growls.

“I might not,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Jon, you wouldn’t!”

“Who knows? I thought you were done with this conversation anyways. I’d better leave you alone to recover,” Jon smiles sweetly before turning out of Brendon’s bedroom.

“Jon, get back here!” Brendon yells, making an attempt to stand up, but suddenly feeling nauseous and needing to sit back down. “I hate you!”

“Love you, too, Bren!” Jon yells from their living room.