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Two years, two months and twelve days.
And I have to say that I don’t see the appeal. I don’t see why people make such a big deal about giving a fuck. It’s very annoying and inconvenient and I’d rather go back to my old ways.
But I can’t.
At least not tonight.
When my best friend — the only friend that I’ve ever had — is hell bent on ruining his life by either getting alcohol poisoning or an STD, or both.
In the last minute or so, since I found him lurking around the makeshift bar at this very boring party thrown by one of our soccer buddies from school, he’s thrown back two shots. That’s a shot every minute, which puts him at at least five or six, since I started looking for him in the first place.
He told me he was going to find a restroom as soon as we arrived. Either he got waylaid by those two blondes who are hanging on his arms right now or he lied.
Stupid fucker.
Exhaling an angry breath, I push my way through people who are all trying to either thump me on the back or talk to me as I pass them by. What about my pissed off expression says, ‘come talk to me, I’m a friendly guy’ is beyond me right now.
Actually, what about my past behavior in high school says that they can approach me at all, I don’t know. I’ve always tried to be as unapproachable as possible.
Thankfully though, halfway through my very irritating journey to get to my best friend, he starts making his own stumbling way to me, those two chicks in tow, and so we meet somewhere in the middle. But before I deal with Lucas, I need to deal with the girls he brought along for the ride.
I step into their paths, stopping them while Lucas carries on, probably too drunk to notice that his blonde companions have been intercepted.
Stupidfuckingfucker.
When I see him settling himself against the pool table — the spot we’d agreed to park ourselves for the party before his whole restroom lie — and I’m satisfied that he’s not going to fall on his ass and break his dumb neck, I turn to the girls.
Who are both looking at me with pretty smiles.
I should know who they are. They both look familiar and given that they’re here at this party, there’s a very good chance that they both went to the same school as Lucas and me. But for the life of me I can’t place them.
“Hey, Reign,” one of the girls says.
I’m going to call her girl number one.
“Having fun?” the second girl, let’s call her girl number two, asks.
Fuck no.
I’m not having fun.
Watching your best friend practically kill himself is not fun.
Watching him do it over and over for the past two years is not fun either.
It’s all pretty un-fun actually.
Nonetheless, I reply, “Sure.” So I can get to the main part. “I think he’s had enough.”
“What?” girl number one says, confused.
“It’s time for you to take off.”
Girl number two is confused as well. “Take off?”
I don’t see how any of what I said could possibly be confusing but still, I try to explain. “You both should leave.”
“Leave?” girl number two asks again. “What do you mean?”
