Summer

RYAN'S POV RYAN'S POV EVERYONE PLEASE REMEMBER THAT THIS IS RYAN'S POV NOW IT SWITCHED.

Ryan’s POV:

            I loved not being able to remember. I craved it. Getting fucked up and destroying the past for a few hours was the best feeling in the world.

            I laid there in Rob’s van with my eyes closed for a long time. I was in a lot of pain. Everything hurt- my eyes, my nose, my throat, my stomach- my head was the worst. This had to have been the worst hangover I ever had.

            I suddenly shot up out of the van and outside into the hot sun. I threw up all the contents of my stomach for about 15 minutes. I felt someone behind me put their hand on my back. I figured it was Pete, but when I finally looked up, I saw Rob holding out a water bottle for me.

            “You gonna be alright?” he asked. I took the bottle and rinsed my mouth out.

            “Eventually. Thank you,”

            “You’re f****n’ crazy, man. You just kept going and going- I was impressed.” Rob said.

            “Yeah, well, the after party’s not so great.”

            “If you stick with me,” Rob smiled, “There’s never an after party. Life’s a party. You can just keep going and going and going…” he lit up a cigarette. I contemplated his words.

            I never wanted the party to end. If I could live in constant destruction of my past, I’d be set. I didn’t have to worry about school anymore, so who cared if I was fucked up all the time? Pete… he would probably care. But maybe not…

            “Yeah? I guess I’ll have to stick with you then.” I snatched the cigarette out from between his lips and took a drag.

            We sat around the charred remains of the bon fire in the shade.

            “So, last night- I know I shouldn’t take to heart anything you said last night- but you suggested I come to Chicago with you. I got to thinking- I could bring my van, some people, lots of stuff to keep the party rolling… we could turn it into like, a road trip?” Rob suggested.

            “That might be the best idea I’ve ever heard.” I said. He grinned. I grinned back.

            “What time is it?” Madison asked, rolling out of the van.

            “It’s about 3 in the afternoon,” Rob answered.

            “Hm, well, time to eat.” she had obviously just been smoking pot in the van.

            “Where’s Pete?” I asked.

            “Still asleep,” Madison said. I went into the van and pulled the door closed. Madison said something about not wanting to see the van shaking back and forth, but I ignored her.

            “Pete?” I touched his shoulder. He was on his side, facing away from me. He turned onto his back and looked up at me.

            “Hi,” he said sleepily.

            “Hi,” I climbed onto him and looked down at his face.

            “You really scared me last night,” he said.

            “Really? Why?”

            “You got so fucked up…”

            “Yeah, I feel okay though. My head hurts, but I’m alright.” I said.

            “That’s good,” he said, putting his hands on my thighs. He sat up to kiss my cheek and then my mouth and I wrapped my arms around him tightly.

            We were interrupted by Rob pounding on the side of the van.

            “We’re going to Micky D’s! I’m entering the vehicle now! Just thought I’d warn you!” he yelled. I rolled my eyes and sat down next to Pete.

            As we drove away, Pete looked out the window with vacant eyes. He seemed out of it. Had I said something the previous night? I didn’t think about it for too long.

            As we ate, I noted how Rob watched as I dipped a French fry in ketchup, tapped it on Pete’s nose and fed it to him. Pete responded with a distant smile, and wiped the ketchup off of his nose with a napkin.

            “So Pete, Madison-- Rob and I had an idea this morning,” I began, taking a long sip from my coke, “We want to turn the Chicago thing into a road trip.”

            “YES OH MY GOD YES MY DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE!” Madison exclaimed. An elderly woman shushed her from the next booth. I smiled. Pete was not enthused. I nudged his arm.

            “What do you think?” I asked.

            “Cool, sounds good,” he said.

            I looked down at the table. Rob had watched this exchange also. I had Rob drop Pete and I off at my house after that. We went up to my bedroom, kicked our shoes off, and lay down on my bed, completely exhausted.

            “So, you don’t want it to be a road trip?” I asked, stroking his silky brown hair.

            “I said it sounded good,” he said, his eyes closed.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked. He lay silently for a few moments.

            “I don’t know,” he finally responded. I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. I smiled and closed my eyes, satisfied with the quickening of his heartbeat.

            “You can tell me,” I said very quietly. He embraced me and rubbed my back gently.

            “I don’t really know what to think,” he said.

            “About what?”

            “The future. I never had to worry about it or even think about it… until now,” he explained.

            I didn’t like where this was going. I spent most of my life trying not to think about the future. When I wasn’t trying to forget the past, I was trying to avoid the far future. But, obviously, the future is unavoidable. That really f*****g pissed me off.

            I wished I had a cigarette. I pondered when I didn’t wish I had a cigarette.

            “Why are you worrying about the future now?” I asked.

            “Because… Okay, all my life has been leading up to this moment- the first day out of high school. Today is the first day of ‘the rest of our lives’. When we’d sit in class listening to our teachers go on and on about the future, this is it. What happens from here?”

            More silence.

            “Pete?” I asked finally.

            “Yeah?”

            “Every day is the first day of the rest of our lives.” I said. He kissed the top of my head.

            “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make,” he whispered.

            “Oh,” I said, “Sorry,”

            “It’s okay. You have a good point.”

            “Thank you. I try to live by that philosophy,”

            “It’s a good motto to have,” he said, burying his face in my hair again. “You smell like cheap vodka.” he stated.

            “Don’t say that- you’re gonna make me sick again.” I said, vaguely remembering drinking s****y vodka straight out of the bottle the previous night. Not one of my brightest moments. My stomach grumbled. Pete laughed at me.

            “You seemed to have had a pretty nice time last night. Do you remember anything?” Pete asked. Oh s**t, I thought, what the hell did I say last night?

            “I remember drinking… a lot,”

            “That’s it?” he asked.

            “Yeah, what did I do?”

            “You did drink a lot… took some interesting designer drugs and some cocaine.” he said with hints of distaste in his tone. I wondered if I should apologize.

            “Yeah, that sounds like me,” I said.

            “Hm,” was all Pete said.

            “Did I do something else?” I asked. His lack of forwardness was starting to irritate me.

            “No,” he answered nonchalantly. I bit my lip, hoping he wasn’t lying.

I needed to feel okay- needed to know that he was okay. I slid my hand under his shirt and rubbed his bare chest, raising goose-bumps on his skin. He inhaled sharply through his mouth. I playfully bit his shoulder.

“Ouch,” he said. He sounded serious too.

“Wimp,” I muttered. I kissed his neck and then his lips. He was slow to respond, almost reluctant. I attempted to step up my game, moving faster, slipping my tongue into his mouth and tracing patterns with my fingers around his pelvic bone.

“Um,” he gently grabbed my hand, “I have to get home,” Pushing me off of his body, he kissed my cheek, grabbed his shoes and walked out the door. I sat on the edge of my bed and listened as he walked down the stairs and the back door slammed shut. He had left me confused and devastated.

I felt lost on the nights we didn’t spend together. I lay in my bed, furiously thrashing around, trying to remember (or forget) what went wrong, and wanting to turn my brain off completely. I got up, paced around my room, smoked three cigarettes, drew a s****y picture of a bridge and checked the time- 12:34 am. I looked at my cell phone.

“Just call him, you little pansy b***h.” I said out loud to myself. I slid open the phone and ran my thumb over the buttons. I pressed ‘Talk’.

“Hey, Rob? Sorry I’m calling you so late, but… I need a favor.”

Author's Note

I know it's kind of funky to be switching the point of view this far into the story, but it's sort of important, so... yeah (:

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[Kaylor Mason]

Interesting