#;chey

lotofheart ⸺

     Let the record show that I, Kirk Tiberius James, am an idiot ⸺ more importantly, an idiot who is hopelessly in love with a girl who barely knows I exist. 

     Alright, let me stop myself there before I get too John Hughes on you. She does know I exist to a very great extent. We’re good friends, and that’s great; we hang out all the time and I’m the only person she gets to have all those long night talks with. You know, the ones you always imagine yourself having with the girl or guy of your dreams? At least, when you’re a kid? Yeah, we have those. And it’s amazing ⸺ she’s a really amazing girl ⸺ except all these late night talks we have are about her and other guys who I can’t compete with. I mean, they’re dumb as rocks, and I’m not all that smart too (my SAT score will get me living on the streets if I don’t play it well this summer with college and everything), but at least I know how to treat a girl. Guys at my high school really bring a new meaning to that whole ‘dumb jock’ thing. They’re pretty much degenerates. 

      And nevermind that I struggled spelling degenerates there. The point is, I like her, I like her a lot, but she doesn’t like me back. Or at least, I don’t think she does. But tonight ⸺ tonight I’m gonna tell her. Tonight she’s going to know. I even have this letter I spent all night writing, something I begged Ben to proofread for me, to express how much I like her. How much I think we’re perfect for each other. How I love the way she looks at things in life, and how she thinks differently than anybody our age, and how... 

       “How you... how your eyes get all Bambi big when you’re really interested in something and....” Did I mention I’ve been reading some of this stuff out loud? To myself? Yeah. I’ve reached that level of pathetic. She’s probably inside, enjoying her time at the party, like I should be doing, but no. I’ve ditched for the night to get into the right mentality. I need to get this right, or it may just be the end of my love life ‘til I’m like, fifty or something. 

       ♪ shakedown 1979, cool kids never have the time                                               on a live wire right up off the street.. ♫

     I went to a lot of parties. That wasn’t any means to brag or anything like that, I wasn’t that type of person. But my role at San Diego Community was more than just being an arts major, comic book junkie, or the dude that delivered your coffee on a skateboard all the time. One of the biggest responsibilities I had rested in our college radio, Saturday Night Recovery. When you think of radio, you obviously think of music - and when you think of music, your little head thinks of parties. Don’t blame yourself, don’t blame society; it’s just the way our bodies work. When we hear something we like, we move to the beat. It’s biology. 

     So, that being said, my buddies and I were infamous for throwing the coolest parties, playing the best music. None of that bubblegum pop stuff that was coming out of the industry like bad gas after eating refried beans; it was good alternative, anything you could tap your foot to or make out to. Not that I was doing any of that. To be honest with you, it was difficult for me to get up here and even be at this party, but as one of the people throwing it, it was kind of an unspoken obligation to be present. My girlfriend of nearly five years since we started dating in high school had just broken up with me, left me for some douchebag on a guitar because he couldn’t date a drummer like me. I’d like to say fuck it, but I couldn’t. Truth was, I was convinced I was gonna marry that girl, so when she broke up with me and left with some guy in a ‘band’ that was going on ‘tour’, I was heartbroken. 

     But being the type of guys my friends were, Ben and Joey wouldn’t just let me stay home and sulk. They dragged me to one of our parties, changed up the scenery a bit to give me something new to look at. Instead of one of the frat or sorority houses our Greek friends would lend to us on certain weekends, they decided a party by beach near Community would do us all good. And I wasn’t gonna lie - it was actually refreshing. I needed that to get Brie out of my mind. 

     I should’ve known, though, that it was more than just a party. 

     “Look, Kirk. Kirky. Kirkyboy!” Joey’s volume increased, his last call of my name sounding like a chant as he raised his beer bottle up. Everyone at the party did the same thing, cheering me on, but God knows what I did. 

     He slung his arm over my shoulder - hell, he and Ben both did - and for a lanky guy like me, I spilled my drink a little. No harm done, though. “Forget! Brie! She was a fashion major. What the hell are you doing with a high maintenance girl like that? Look, you gotta get out there, my man,” Joey continued on, and I chuckled, but only because it felt obligatory. I didn’t wanna get out there. 

     “Don’t listen to Joey, there’s no pressure in you getting out there already. I mean, for God’s sakes, you guys just broke up, what - yesterday? On the phone, right? And she was even with that guy...” Ben trailed off. Drunk. 

     “You’re not helping,” I elbowed him in the rib, but it was all in good fun. 

     Then all of a sudden we stopped walking, skidding on the sand. I almost fell over with the way Joey decided to pull on the breaks like that. “And there’s your one way ticket to getting over Brie Pope.” In the distance, he pointed to a Chey Johnson, a girl I’d bumped into a couple times but really never talked to. If it wasn’t obvious already, I was bad with women. 

    “Chey? What? No way,” I scoffed. She was sitting on the table part of a picnic table, drinking beer and looking into the moonlight. Gorgeous, but out of my league. 

     “Never know ‘til you try. Come on, Kirkpie,” Joey grinned. Before I knew it, they’d pushed me over, drink spilling all over me. Great. Now I smelled like beer. 

     I tried to compose myself as best I could, but I wasn’t all that graceful anyway. I ended up stumbling over on my way to stand in front of her, which probably looked really freaking creepy through her eyes. Great first impression. “Hey!” CALM DOWN. “Hey,” I said, calmer. “Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Kirk,” I said, holding up my bottle a little as a greeting. “Anybody sitting here?”

It’s the first Friday of summer vacation and you can sure as hell bet that  Joseph O’Connor isn’t going to spend it at home. Second best place? His neighbor and best friend/part time lover’s house. Couldn’t think of a better way to kick off the summertime. 

He finds himself spritzing on some cologne (gotta stay fresh) and slipping his phone in his sweats’ pockets before climbing out of his window. It’s a  little cliche, and God damn, there must be some scene in some teen  movie that’s gotta involve this, but regardless he prays to God that it  doesn’t end up with him falling off the tree. They’ve been doing this for years now, Joey doing a lot more of the climbing than Chey has, and he hasn’t fallen once. He doesn’t want to end that streak today. 

On his way over, a twig decides to snap underneath him, and leaves  begin to shuffle as they fall onto the ground. Conveniently, his parents have decided to just start leaving the house for stupid date night (and he’s not saying that it’s stupid, but they call it stupid. They literally do stupid things on their dates together, like rich people do) and are in  the driveway with a clear view of their rebellious son.

He stops everything. 

His mother looks around for a moment, and it’s obvious she heard the sound, but he’s glad that she has no fucking clue where it came from.  His father reassures her it was probably nothing, I mean, really, Helena - we’re a guarded community. We pay for protection in our mortgage! and they drive away, in which case, Joey makes his way on over to Chey’s balcony next door. It’s a success.

Until her window’s not open like it usually is at this scheduled time. He furrows his eyebrows; investigation mode on and whatnot. He can’t even see much past her dark curtains. Angrily, he sends a text. 

               [9:45 PM] Hey, what the fuck? You got a boy in there?                [9:45 PM] GOd you’re watching porn aren’t you                 [9:45 PM] DIRTY LITTLE GIRL                [9:45 PM] I bet you’re into pegging. OPEN THIS WINDOW