My eyes slightly cross as I type my response, and thankfully, instead of seeing the dots appear on my screen, the phone rings.
“Hi.”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
I snuggle under the blanket. “Lying down. Did I wake you?”
“Nah. What’d you and Ellie do?”
“We had some pizza, popcorn, and watched a movie. Oh, and we finished awholebottle of wine,” I say as if it’s some impressivefeat.
“Yeah? And how much wine did you have?”
“I lost track.” I yawn. “Probably enough to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”
“Such a lightweight,” he says, teasing.
“Don’t I know it.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“No, I want to talk to you.” I sit up, trying to force myself awake. “Did you write any tonight?”
“I did.”
“That’s good. Do you think you’ll write a song about me one day?”
“You want me to write a song about you?” He sounds amused, and I nod even though he can’t see me.
“Mmhm.”
He chuckles. I love it when he does that. It’s so deep and sexy.
“You probably have tons of songs about other girls. Probably even one about blow job girl.” I’m normally not so loose-lipped, but the wine effect has taken over and I can’t stop it.
“Blow job girl? Jesus, Olivia, I don’t,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me or if he finds me cute. I’m going to go with the second option, please.
“Oookay. But maybe aboutmeone day, right?” I roll over, getting comfortable again. My eyes fall shut, but I keep talking. “I’ll listen to it on the radio years from now and remember everything. I’ll be married, probably with a kid or two, and you’ll be super famous by then. I’ll tell everyone I know the song is about me, but no one will believe me. You’ll have some super-hot rock star wife. Oh! Or maybe she’ll be a model.” I can actually picture it in my head, and I don’t like the gripping pain in my chest. “Yeah. I can see that.” I sigh.
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Oh, I know! You can call the song Barbie Girl. Or wait, isthat already taken? Anyway, why do you call me Barbie?” Sleep is trying to take me under, but I can’t stop. All the thoughts and questions I’m normally too afraid to voice are spilling out freely. I’m too drunk to stop them.
“Go to sleep.” He chuckles again. He definitely finds me cute and amusing. Not annoying.
“Are you getting bored of me? Because we haven’t had sex yet? I want to. You know that, right? I think your cock isreallypretty and I’ve never thought that before, but I’m afraid I won’t be that good. Chad needed to test the waters elsewhere, if you know what I mean. Hey, do you want to come over?”
“Hey, Barbie?”
“Hmm?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Yeah. Okay. I don’t want to leave, okay? I might stay. I’ll be broke but happy. Good night, Penn.”
He’s quiet for a minute, but I hear his “sweet dreams” before I drift off into unconsciousness.
I wakeup with my phone glued to my ear. My head pounds against my skull as I force myself to get up. I step into the shower and turn the water to scalding as if it can burn the hangover from my body.
