“Want to watch a movie?” Cole nods over to me.
“What movie?” I feign interest as I make my way across the room.
“Aliens and Indians. It’s a classic, right up there withGone with the Wind.” He casually taps his gal pal over the bottom with a nice crisp slap as if to annunciate his point.
“Nice,” I whisper.
Cole has always had an odd fascination with aliens, so I don’t see why his cinematic comparison surprises me. He used to be all about the X-Files, but now it’s all about theSex-Files. “Sure. I’ll change real quick and be right back.” I take a moment to scrutinize the fashion sense or rather nonsense on display by team estrogen.
Interesting. Both skanks are dressed to impress with nary the storm front in mind. It’s obvious those boob-hugging tank tops, the skintight minis, are meant to foster hard-ons more than they are to keep anyone toasty as the weather takes a turn for the nasty. The only thing about to get nasty around here is them. I glance over at the girl glued to Bryson’s side with her heavily-lined eyes and eyebrows that look as if they were penciled in by a clown at the fair. Two can play at that game.
I head into the bathroom and dump my makeup bag on the counter until it turns into a pile of MAC vomit, producing enough calk and color to transform me into a guaranteed runner up at Miss Transvestite U.S.A.
A pair of false eyelashes I bought last year at Halloween, mock me. They have a thread of tinsel in them, but it’s so damn dark in the living room, I doubt anyone will notice. I pluck them out of their casing and spend a small eternity adhering them to my lids. Hmm… I look…interesting—um…defined. Oh, hell, I look downright scary. I take off my Whitney Briggs sweatshirt and dig into my duffle bag until I produce a skimpy lace tank and my barely-there jean shorts I accidentally on purpose swiped from Jeanie-with-the-wienie-obsession. It’s not like I really meant to steal them. If I didn’t fear a gangbang was immanent, I wouldn’t have left in such a damn hurry. Anyway these Daisy Dukes are sort of my good luck charm because I happened to be wearing them last Friday night when Bryson and I engaged in a Guinness worthy lip-lock.
I trade my sensible nude colored bra for my shiny black push up that makes my boobs feel as if they’re standing on the edge of a very tall building while my nipples peer over the ledge with that one-eyed look of terror. I throw on the lace top and saunter out of the bathroom while the girls bounce in rhythm. I bet they’re offended that I haven’t bothered to name them like I did Jeanie’s. Desperate One and Desperate Two sounds about right but, sadly, doesn’t have a fun ring to it.
I reenter the living room only to find that the bimbo next to Bryson has made herself comfortable with her legs draped over his lap while she greedily lays her head on a throw pillow. I so would have let him have the pillow. She lifts her leg and her foot starts to wander up his chest, climbing further north until she’s casually relaxed her thigh over his shoulder—sort of giving him a perverse hug with her knee.
“Take a seat.” Cole motions me to the floor in front of the television as if I were a three-year-old, but I turn down his offer and strategically land myself on the lounger across from Bryson.
“You can’t see anything from there.” Cole frowns over at me as if he’s genuinely concerned about my movie experience. Little does he know I’m facing in the right direction to satisfy my viewing pleasure.
“I can see just fine.” I glance at the T.V. Actually, he’s right. I can’t see shit. But what Icansee is the brunette bimbo giving Bryson a massage with her freshly manicured toes.Eww. Her left leg has meandered as well, and her knee has precariously placed itself over the zipper of his jeans. She’s flexible, I’ll give her that. Her legs are wide open, her skirt is hiked up rather ingloriously around her hips, and, from this vantage point, it looks as if her pink G-string is flossing her in all the wrong places. My gaze floats up his chest, to his blessed by God face, and oh—he’s staring right at me. His cheek cinches up one side, and he raises a finger as if he’s waving, so I give a little wave back and feel silly in the process.
Crap.
I sink in my seat and revert my attention to the movie just as an alien unhinges its jaw and swallows an unsuspecting Indian chief whole.
My face burns with heat. I wish an alien would swoop down and swallowmewhole.
Shit. Brysonsawme. Even worse he saw me checking out his gal pal’s love canal, and now he probably thinks I’m playing for the other team. Stupid Cole for even implying it a few weeks back—and even more stupid me for substantiating his theory by engaging in a crotch watch.
Cole leans up on his elbows and peers over.
“What the hell’s that thing hanging off your face?” He leans in further to inspect me. “Dude, you got a bug on your eye?”
I glare at him for a moment. Note to self, embarrass the living shit out of Cole Brighton, soon and often.
“It’s nothing.” I sink further into my seat and glance over at the exit as if I were planning an Alcatraz worthy escape.
The blonde draped over my brother looks into me with a blank face. “Who is she?” Her hair lies over his forehead, and it looks as if Cole is wearing a bad Halloween wig.
“That’s my little sis.” There’s a sense of pride in his voice when he says it—the kind you reserve for the family pet.
“Aww!” The blonde sits up and coos into me as if I had morphed into an infant. “And those fake eyelashes aresocute!” She brings her hand to her chest as if I’ve touched her on an emotional level. “So, like, what grade are you in?”
Grade? “I’m a freshman,” I’m quick to apprise her of my quasi-adult standing.
“Really?” She gawks at me as if it were impossible. “I would have thought you were a lot younger. I have a sister in junior high, and you sort of remind me of her.”
Just crap.
The brunette molesting Bryson with her kneecap leans forward. “You have some lipstick right here.” She points just under her nose. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.” She strums her fingers across his chest like an afterthought. “You know, if you ever want tips on how to do your makeup, I could totally teach you. I have about nine tutorials up on YouTube right now. You should check them out.” She looks over at Bryson. “I love playing with makeup. Plus it helps with my modeling.”
Great. I’ve just been reduced to a seventh grader, andshe’sa model. I sink in my seat until my bottom actually slips off the edge and watch the remainder of Aliens and Indians until my ass goes numb.
After the movie, Cole sends the blonde packing to his bedroom with a firm squeeze to her behind, and she giggles her way down the hall. I’m sure she’s amped up just thinking of all the loving, touching, squeezing about to take place.
