Page 50 of Exrated
"What did you put in," she asks.
"Stubborn and impatient..."
Seconds later the theme music starts, and the title flips across the screen. She’s smiling. Really big.
"God," she laughs and flops back against the couch. "I haven't watched this movie in ages."
"Yeah, me either."
This movie is shit. It's awful, but for whatever reason we used to watch it over and over when we were kids. We both sit, staring at the screen and there's this nervous energy, just like there used to be between us when we both got to the age where we realized boys and girls could do a lot more than be friends. I remember that moment, and the thing is, it was when we were watching this very fucking film. We were in her basement, sitting on the couch like we always had every other time we'd watched this horrible film, but, this time, every few minutes, I'd scoot a little bit closer to her. A little closer. And closer—until our legs were touching.
I glance over at her and this feeling—like I said, she feels like home…
Halfway through the movie, my hand is on her thigh and she’s stiff as shit. “Want me to move my hand?” I ask.
Before she can answer, the lock clicks and her roommate walks in. The second her eyes land on me, she scowls. “What the…”
I stand up and stretch. “Just leaving,” I say, glancing back at Jemma. “Thanks for letting me take a piss.”
She smiles. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure thing. See you later.”
Her roommate shoots me an evil glare as I move toward the door so I wink at her. I shut the door behind me and drag in a deep breath. This is a start.
“Another martini?” the bartender asks as he reaches for my empty glass. My head is already swimming,
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on, titch. Have another,” Tyler says.
I glance around Tyler. Benson’s leaned against the counter, chatting up some really young girl. Vee’s on the dancefloor with Brandi—this is just a few co-workers going out for Happy Hour. That’s it. I’m still not exactly sure how he talked me into this, but what this is not—it is not a date.
A petite brunette squeezes between Tyler and Benson. I watch her gaze drift between the two of them. “Oh, wow!” She says, a deep smile setting her face. “I know you two.”
“Oh, really?” Benson says, smiling like a pervert.
“Yeah. Benson Long and,” she bites down on her lip as she coyly bats her fake eyelashes at Tyler, “And Mr. Johnny Depth.”
Tyler rubs his hand over the back of his neck and Benson throws his hands in the air. “Mr.? He gets the mister?”
She giggles. “You guys do some amazing work.”
Unaware that I am doing it, I roll my eyes. I turn to face the bar and flag down the bartender. Grinning, he leans over the bar. “Change your mind, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think another martini would be good.”
He nods and grabs the mixer. The brunette is smiling at Tyler, swaying from side to side and giving him some serious fuck-me eyes. Benson says something to her, and she giggles. It’s this high pitch, hyena sounding noise. She places her hand on Tyler’s arm, feeling over his muscles—still giggling. I roll my eyes again because I’m evidently thirteen. I turn back to the bar and it’s while I’m staring at the illuminated bottles of liquor, I realize she recognized them—as porn stars. And I am with said porn stars. People recognize them, then they see me with them.Oh, fucking great!The bartender slides my drink in front of me and just as I’m taking my first sip, I feel fingers skim along the small of my back.
“I thought you said you didn’t want another drink?”
I turn around to find Tyler smirking.
“I changed my mind.” Taking another gulp, I shrug. The girl is staring at us while Benson attempts to sweet-talk her.
“Told her you were my girlfriend,” Tyler says, grabbing my martini and taking a drink.
“What? Why?”
