Almost Easy

“Man!” Jimmy shrieked at the top of his lungs, spinning around with his arms spread out like he might takes flight, “I’m fucking wasted!”
It was late. So late that I feared the sun might start poking its head out from the other side of the world. That place had put everyone into a trance—no windows made it very difficult to judge how long you’d been inside.
“Ty,” I slurred, struggling to stay upright. “Ty, I think I’m drunk.”
He groaned, collecting my weight with one of his arms.
We were making our way down the street and away from the party—which was essentially being broken up anyway. The streetlights were on and helped to guide the way back to Tyler’s car…not that I knew where it was—or where I was.
“Where are we going?” I hiccupped, trying to keep my eyes open.
Tyler groaned under my weight, “Home.”
“No!” I shouted. “I don’t want to go home! Let’s go somewhere fun!”
“Home is fun,” Tyler managed weakly. “Bed is the best place to be.”
“Yeah, it is!” Jimmy laughed from ahead.
“Did you have to do all those shots?” Tyler sighed.
I furrowed my brows, “Let me go. You’re being mean.”
“I’m not being mean,” Tyler argued, struggling to keep a grip on my writhing body.
“Tyler. Let me go.”
So he did. Even though I’d been the one makingthe demand, I still hadn’t anticipated the weight of my own body—I wasn’t ready. I plummeted to my death onto the street.
I laid there for a while, body spread out at all angles—I couldn’t stop laughing.
The sky spun above me and made me feel instantly ill.
“Help,” I managed, feeling like a turtle turned on its back.
To my delight, Brian was the one to scoop me off of the pavement. He appeared to be far less intoxicated than I was—granted, I was half his size.
He would destroy me.
“You alright?” he asked as he pulled me to my feet.
I couldn’t hide my shit-eating grin, “Oh, I’m good.”
He shook his head with a laugh, “You’re really drunk, huh?”
“Only this much,” I held my fingers out to him and made just a tiny space between them. “That much.”
Jimmy bounded over in our direction; I think he was probably the only one that was still on my level. We didn’t waste a single drop of that Petrone—who paid for that? Did anyone pay for that?
I rightly didn’t care.
“So where are we going?” he chirped happily.
Tyler sighed, “I’m going to take this one home.”
Jimmy scowled, “You’re not going to take me home? I want to go to her home.”
I pulled Brian’s pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and sloppily tossed one between my lips.
“Light,” I said to him, looking up at him with puppy eyes.
He snickered but lit my stupid cigarette.
“Don’t you have your own home to go to?” Tyler said finally, his irritation was not hidden well.
Jimmy shrugged, “Sure, I do. I want to go to Blair’s though.”
“Tyler, don’t be a stick in the mud,” I teased, choosing my words carefully.
Usually I was the “stick in the mud”; this time, though, I was having a blast and Tyler was acting like a little bitch. I chalked it up to him being protective but in this case, he had no reason to be. Nothing was threatening me.
Except for the feel of Brian’s chest brushing against my body as we walked, his tattooed arm holding me up.
That was threatening all of my self-control.
“What do you want, Blair?” Tyler snapped at me, getting dangerously close. “You want to bring home two absolute fucking strangers?”
I sensed a lecture headed my way—a scolding at the very least. Unfortunately, I really didn’t care for people bossing me around or making me feel foolish.
To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. I would have protested if our roles were reversed. However, I was absolutely trashed and I adored Jimmy—and couldn’t stop drooling over Brian.
“Yes,” I said seriously. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”
“Sleepover!” Jimmy shouted, arms stretched out above his head.
Tyler was less than impressed when the four of us crammed ourselves into his shitty car. City of Evil erupted through the speakers—which, even in my drunken state, was embarrassing.
I instinctively turned it down—hoping they hadn’t heard.
“Was that our album?” Brian asked from the back.
I looked around innocently, “Was what your album?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Peterson,” he laughed.
“I’m not,” I insisted. “And don’t call me that.”
“I definitely heard some talk of seizing the day,” Jimmy said to Brian. “You’re not crazy, man.”
“You listen to our music,” Brian thought aloud, “But didn’t know who any of us were?”
“I don’t listen to your music,” I corrected lightly. “I mean, not before today anyway. It’s really good though.”
Tyler moved the car forward and I thought I was going to die. My stomach did flips and flops and made my brain question why we were even still trying to keep our vitals going. Maybe we’d make a team effort and call it quits.
I pushed the vomit down and tried to stay focused on the heap of metal sitting in the two back seats.
“Well what are we doing talking?” Brian cheered, “Turn that shit up!”
It was undeniably narcissist to love your music so much—but I decided to take it in a good way. It was a far cry from the self-depreciation and loathing that was customary in my friend group.
There’s nothing wrong with appreciating your own art.
The drive was longer than I remembered and it took everything I had not to toss my cookies—
“Ty, pull over,” I shouted, grabbing at his arm.
He hesitated, “What?”
“Pull! Over!”
He did as I said as quickly as he could manage. I was out the door before he’d slowed to a stop.
I ran from the car as quickly as I could, trying desperately to not let Jimmy and Brian see me lose my insides. I found myself in a ditch and figured it would do for now.
Once the tequila had literally cleansed my insides, I wiped my mouth and pushed myself to my feet. The world was less hazy now that I’d thrown up the contents of my stomach but I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Or a bus. Something big.
I climbed out of the ditch and back into the car. The boys were all waiting, the music turned down low.
“It’s funny,” I said after a moment of silence, “because I live like three blocks from here.”
Jimmy grimaced, “Why is that funny?”
“Shut up,” I grumbled, holding my aching guts.
Tyler drove on and stopped just outside my apartment building. He looked at me expectantly as I unstrapped myself from the car.
“Are you not coming in?” I asked, genuinely confused.
He shook his head once, “No, you go have your fun. I’ll come around tomorrow to make sure you’re still alive.”
“Tyler,” I sighed, reaching out to touch his hand.
He pulled away, “Blair, just go.”
Brian and Jimmy were already at the base of my building, hollering and staggering around.
“Go before they get you evicted,” Tyler smirked.
“Love you, Ty,” I frowned before giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
He smiled, “Love you more.”
I climbed out of the car and collected my two new friends, dragging them up the stairs and urging them to be quiet.
We climbed five flights of stairs—Jimmy had to stop for a quick break. Finally, we reached it: apartment 23.
“That was too many stairs,” Jimmy groaned as I slid the key into the lock.
I ushered the men into my tiny one bedroom apartment, locking the door behind us. Jimmy had wasted no time scurrying into my apartment and making himself at home. As I rounded the corner, I sincerely hoped that I’d tidied before I left this morning.
“Your apartment is cool,” Jimmy grinned, admiring my black walls.
My landlord had nearly lost his mind when he’d come in to fix the air conditioner one day and had found I’d painted all of my walls black. Poor guy.
“Thanks,” I replied happily, plopping myself down onto my grey fabric couch.
“I have a great idea,” Jimmy said as he sat himself next to me—his lanky body taking up most of the sofa. “We should order a pizza.”
“That is a great idea!” my eyes widened.
Brian was waltzing around my living room, admiring the paintings and collectables that lined my walls.
“You like the Beatles?” he asked, admiring the yellow submarine collectable I’d carefully placed on shelves.
I nodded, “Does anyone not like the Beatles?”
This response seemed to please him. He strode across the room and collapsed into a chair. My heart palpitated at the realization that I’d managed to bring this sexy beast home. Granted, Jimmy had volunteered them—and had come along…but still. Brian in my apartment was one hell of a good view.
I grabbed the cordless from the table next to the couch and dialed the only 24 hour pizza joint that I knew. They were greasy but they were fast and they were delicious.
“What do we want on it?” I asked, covering the microphone piece of the phone.
“Meat,” Jimmy groaned, rubbing his stomach. “All of the meat.”
I nodded, “Meat. We want meat on it.”
Jimmy and Brian erupted into a chorus of drunken laughter—I shushed them with my hand.
“I am serious,” I protested into the phone. “I don’t care what meat, just put meat on it, ma’am.”
She hung up on me—I hoped that didn’t mean we weren’t getting pizza.
I put the phone back onto its charger in defeat, “She hates me.”
“She’s a bitch,” Jimmy growled. “Call her back, I’ll tell her she’s a bitch!”
“No, no,” I giggled, swatting Jimmy’s hand away from the phone—and pushing his body off of mine. “Jimmy, we’re not calling her back. She’ll send the pizza. She’ll send the pizza with the meat.”
I hadn’t been think drunk in a very long time. Considering the level of intoxication, I felt like I was faring pretty well. Minus that incident with the vomit.
Brian was staring at me from across the room, silent and serious.
“What’s with you?” I asked, finally getting Jimmy out of my lap.
Jimmy turned to his friend, “Yeah, what’s your face?”
“Sexy,” I grumbled.
I thought that I’d been quiet—they both heard me clear as day. My face beat red with humiliation.
“Am I cockblocking here?” Jimmy asked then, looking back from me to Brian and back to me again.
I giggled, “No, Jimmy.”
“Maybe,” Brian spoke then, giving me a real lazy wink.
My heart fluttered—which made me feel sick all over again.
“Oh! Records!” Jimmy declared abruptly, racing from his place on the couch to my giant glass cabinet full of my favourite music.
I’d inherited most of my vintage albums from my mother when she passed. She had a seriously impressive collection that I’d been expanding for years. I owned everything from Arctic Monkeys to Heart to Eminem to Zeppelin. I was quite proud of my collection.
“Can I put this on?” Jimmy asked, holding a record up by his face.
I was too drunk to make out what it was so I nodded in acknowledgment.
We stayed that way through the entire A side of the album, Jimmy making the occasional lude comment and shaking his stuff in the middle of my living room. Brian was quiet, except for one interruption to ask for a glass of water. I happy retrieved it for him.
Jimmy made his way over to my record player to flip the record.
“What are you doing?” I asked Brian, who appeared to be off in his own little world.
He snickered, “I’m fucked.”
I pulled myself off of the couch and made my way over to Brian, in expert timing as the record Jimmy had chosen began to play. My steps were unsure and in true, classy form, I tripped and fell—but strategically landed in Brian’s lap.
He caught me at the edge of his knees and pulled me up.
“I almost died,” I told him seriously.
He nodded, “I saw.”
“You saved me.”
A subtle grin spread across his perfect face, “How will you ever repay me?”
“A blowjob!” Jimmy shrieked from beside the speaker, shaking his bony hips to the bass.
I wiggled my eyebrows at Brian, who’s face turned beat fucking red. All talk.
“Let me see these,” I said then, pulling at Brian’s arms.
He didn’t object.
“Your arms are nuts,” I told him in awe, admiring all of the beautiful colours permanently painted into his skin.
He watched me size him up, taking in every inch of every picture, every line. He was mesmerizing—his tattoos only solidified that for me.
“Damn,” I sighed finally, dropping his arm back down.
He ran his finger down my arm, sending chills up my spine, “Yours are cool. I like the bird.”
He was referring to the giant raven that’s wings stretched up and around my entire bicep. Nevermore was scrawled out messily underneath—I loved me some Poe.
“Thanks,” I smiled, wishing I could be the bird and fly the fuck away.
“I’m going to get up now,” I told him with a smirk. “I’m probably crushing you.”
“You weight like two points,” he noted. “You’re fine where you are.”
Jimmy made slow steps toward us until he, too, was climbing into Brian’s lap.
“Can I sit too?” he asked once he had already straddled one leg around my body.
Brian groaned, “Jimmy.”
“Yeah, baby, say my name,” Jimmy cooed.
I cackled like an idiot—they were so polar opposite to my friends. I couldn’t get enough. My group had fallen into a rut of monotony and boredom. None of us were interesting or exciting—Jimmy was extraordinary, Brian was brooding and beautiful. A fine combination, if you ask me. In any relationship, you need one level-headed in order to keep the insanity to a minimum.
Brian was obviously the more level-headed of the two. Jimmy was something else—in the best fucking way.
“Dude,” Brian growled, “Off.”
“But Blair gets to sit,” he pouted, making his light eyes big and sad. “Why can Blair cuddle and I can’t? You were my man first.”
“You will always be my main squeeze, Rev,” Brian soothed, tussling Jimmy’s hair with his free hand.
Jimmy genuinely smiled before hopping off of Brian’s lap.
“I still think it’s bullshit.”
Brian laughed, “When you look like she does—you can sit in my fucking lap.”
“Like I look?” I questioned, eying him up suspiciously.
He nodded seriously.
“He thinks you’re tasty,” Jimmy cackled, returning back to my records to peruse them more thoroughly.
“Tasty,” I repeated with a laugh. “Come on.”
“Seriously tasty,” Brian said lowly, maintaining some intense eye contact with me.
I thought I might die—this time in a good way and not in a puking-out-a-car kind of way. Surely there was no shame in hooking up with a complete stranger, right? That was the type of thing that one night stands were built on. I was pretty sure that was the whole idea—it wasn’t like I’d never done it before.
I’d done that dance more times than I liked to admit. But none of those men made my heart race like Brian was. There was something about him—something different. Maybe it was just that he was famous too. Definitely more famous than I was—likely than I’d ever be.
No, that couldn’t be it. I didn’t care about that shit. I’d never been one to get star-struck; it just wasn’t how I operated.
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud series of knocks at the door.
“Meat pizza!” Jimmy screamed. “I’ve got it!”
He bounced off toward my door, disappearing around the corner—he was out of sight but definitely not out of earshot. His childlike nature made me grin like an idiot.
“Hey,” Brian said softly, using two fingers to turn my chin back to face him.
The motion made me queasy.
“I think we were in the middle of something,” he said cockily, looking from my eyes to my lips.
I smirked, “In the middle of what? Discussing how tasty I am?”
“Mhm,” he hummed.
“Well,” I bit at my lip, “How tasty am I then?”
He looked again at my lips—instinctively, I released it from my toothy grip. Then he looked back up into my eyes, moving himself closer to me. That’s when my heart gave out, I think. I can’t remember it beating after that moment.
He used those same two fingers to bring my close closer to his, I could practically taste the alcohol that was coursing through his body.
With his face inches from mine, he practically whispered, “Real fucking tasty.”
Just when I thought he might close the gap between our lips, Jimmy returned.
“I’ve got the—” he announced but caught himself--and Brian and I with our faces nearly melded together. “Fuck! I’m totally cockblocking!”
I giggled and pushed myself back to my feet, “You will be if you hoard that fucking pizza, Jimmy. I intend to fuck that shit up.”
Fuck.

Notes