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We make it through the rest of our ice cream without a fight, drive back to the school, and all go our separate ways. When I get back, I do my homework, then open up the folder I now keep the notes from my mystery girl in.
I pull out my favorite note from her. There’s been a few since this one, but when I need to smile, I always go back to it. As soon as I start reading, that smile comes right back to my face.
I’ve gone back and forth about whether to include the attached note or burn it so no one ever has to be subjected to it. If you’re reading this right now, it means that for some god forsaken reason, I went with the first option. Since you let me see your drunk note, I thought I owed it to you to show you the note I wrote you while drunk. There is no longer any reason for you to be embarrassed by yours because mine is one million times worse. Enjoy, you’re welcome, and I’m sorry.
Wazzup?!!!! I’m very legitimately drunk right now. I was thinking about you so I wanted to write you a note. I hope you don’t think it’s weird that I’m thinking about you. You just have a really pretty face. And hair. And eyes. And body. Pretty doesn’t even cover it though. Beautiful isn’t good enough for you either. We should make up a new word for you, because no one that already exists in any language could do you justice. You’re MarMad. It’s like beautiful, but a bajillion trillion times more. It’s MarMad because your name is Marjorie Madden. Get it?
Is the room spinning or is it just my head from thinking of you? HA! I just made that up. Can you believe it? I should write a drunk pick up line book.
OH! You asked me if I’ve written anything. Approximately 500 first chapters, 300 second chapters, and 5.5 third chapters. How do people write full books? Like, damn. I want to write romance, but it would probably help if I knew anything about romance. How does the girl get the girl?
Welp, this has been sufficiently embarrassing. BYEEEE!
I stare at the note for a long time after I’m done reading it. I memorize the way each letter of every single word looks and imagine my mystery girl sitting at home writing it. I have no idea who she is or what she looks like, but I can still somehow picture it. Almost as if I’m connected to her in a way that transcends the physical world.
That’s when it hits me. I have a crush on my mystery girl. It’s different from the crush I had on Felicity. Felicity was always this unreachable ideal. Even when I thought she liked me, it always felt like I was floating above and watching someone else’s life play out. It’s not like that with my mystery girl. Instead of feeling like I’m a bystander watching my own life, my mystery girl makes me feel like I’m more me than I’ve ever been. It’s a weird sensation and I can’t fully explain it, but I like it… a lot. God, I really am in over my head.
I wish there was someone I could talk to. I need someone who couldn’t possibly be connected, but that’s impossible. I can’t even talk to my family members since they probably know this mystery girl, even if they don’t know that they know her. Now my head hurts.
I close my eyes to try to make my headache go away, but as soon as I do, my phone goes off. I open my eyes to find that I have a text from Thalia.
Party at my house on Friday. Be there, bitch <3
Before I can answer and politely decline since it’s now officially basketball season, I get another text from her. Don’t give me some lame excuse about basketball starting. It’s just practice. Your first game isn’t for another three weeks.
There goes that excuse. How did you know that’s when my game is?
I have your schedule printed, but stop changing the subject.
I again don’t have any time to respond before Thalia sends another message. Pleaseeeee! I really want this time with you before you completely disappear into basketball land.
It surprises me how much Thalia wants me there, and I don’t want to disappoint her. Fine. I’ll come, but I can’t drink. Deal?
One beer?
I laugh out loud. She’s persistent. I’ll give her that. Isn’t my presence enough?
Of course it is. Promise to be my beer pong partner, and I’ll let it go. I’ll do all of the drinking for us. I just need you to do the winning.
Deal.
***
When Friday night rolls around, the last thing I want to do is go to a party, but I promised Thalia I would so I don’t really have a choice. As soon as I’m inside her house, Thalia pulls me over to the beer pong table. “Come on, basketball babe. I need you to help me win this.”
I can smell the alcohol on her breath and can tell by how close she leans in to talk to me that she’s very drunk already. I have a feeling this game isn’t going to go very well, but I’ll do my best to carry the team.
When I line up to take my first turn, Thalia stands close beside me and puts her arm around my waist. “You got this,” she whispers. Before pulling away to give me space to shoot, she runs her fingers up and down my arm.
Thank God I’m not drunk this time so I don’t get the same thoughts I did the last time we played beer pong. That’s the last thing I need. I refuse to fall for any more straight girls after what happened with Felicity.
I get lucky and sink my first two shots just like the last time. Thalia congratulates me by giving a sloppy kiss on the cheek. How long has she been drinking?
As we continue to play, this is Thalia’s response whenever I make a shot. When we win the game, she plants the biggest and sloppiest kiss yet just inches from my mouth. As if that isn’t weird enough, she leans close and whispers, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl.”
I act like I have a call because I know she’s too drunk to tell I’m lying. I hold the phone to my ear and walk away from her. After a minute, Thalia makes her way over to where I’m now standing.
I act like I’m hanging up the call and shrug. “That was my sister. She’s at a friend’s house and needs a ride but can’t get ahold of our parents. So, I have to go. I’m sorry.”
