Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (20 page)

"Hi, Rigbee, do you wanna build a snowman?" he sings in his best Anna from the movie
Frozen
impression and lifts his brows up and down.

I can't stop the traitorous burst of giggles I let escape. He is too surreal. Dirks is completely weird, and definitely politically incorrect, but he's got a magnetically charming smile and a gentleness to his eyes which is surprisingly growing on me. He has piercings all over his face, and I would bet what's left of my student loans he has them in other places on his body. The gauges in his lower lobe are gigantic. Dirks is definitely not normal, and he's not trying to be. I think I get now what Roman was trying to tell me last night.

"I'm messing with ya. Do you wanna hear a story, though?"

"Sure?" I phrase as a question.

"Good, because I was going to tell it anyways."

He pulls out a random book from somewhere by his side, and sets it on the mattress between us. Then he goes and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down to his ankles.

"Whoa! What are you doing?" I shriek and put a hand up to stop whatever he's doing from happening.

"Sit back, relax and enjoy the story."

He picks the book back up and I see the giant hole in the middle of every page,

"This story is called Pokey. Once upon a time there was a fireman …"

He turns the page and grabs at his boxer briefs. My eyes go wide with realization.

"Stop!" I yell and cover my eyes with my hand. "I get it, I get it. I know what you do with the book and I don't need to see it!"

"Aww, man, but I was right about to get to the part …"

"Where you put your junk through the hole in the book to act as a three-dimensional fire hose, yes I got that!" I interrupt him.

I hear some people coming down the stairs, and I am extremely grateful for the exceptional timing of their interruption.

"Roman, thank goodness it's you."

"Sorry, sweetheart. I swear I was only gone for five minutes. I had to go check on Lyle. What's wrong?"

"You slept down here with me?" I momentarily forget what I was thinking.

"Of course. You didn't think I would let you sleep in the basement by yourself, did you? I mean, I went upstairs once in a while, but I made sure you were taken care of. Between me and Law-man, you shouldn't have been left alone at any time. And when I was checking on Lyle, I caught the time and thought we should head out so I sent Dirks here to wake you up." Oh, right, that's what I was thinking about.

"About that, do you know he tried showing me …"

"His book?" his jaw tightens and he crosses his arms. "Dirks, c'mon, man, really?" he yells over to his friend.

"You know about that?"

"He tries showing it off to everyone. It's actually a funny book."

I give him a look implying he better watch what he says next. "But, not the best way to introduce himself to my girlfriend," he says loud enough for Dirks to hear. "Let's just say he's scared off more than a couple other females with his ways," he says to me but mean-mugs Dirks at the same time.

"Hey, man, my ways are how you can tell if they're keepers, if they hang around even after meeting me. I'm the best test they have to pass to be worthy of my buddies," Dirks replies proudly.

"I can assure you I'm not going anywhere. It's going to take more than a creeper with a mullet, a book, and excessive amounts of jewelry, to scare me away," I say.

Jewelry
! I look down to find my necklace still intact and tied around my neck,
thank Thor
, but I knew something was wrong. The key piece is missing. My ladybug charm is nowhere to be found. I start to panic as I search all over and under the covers and floor for it. When I don't find the charm anywhere, my body fills with a crushing dread. I'm almost positive it fell into the puke bucket.

I touch my neck.

"My charm," I whisper more softly to myself, but Roman hears and looks at my neck anyway.

"It's okay, Bug, no big deal. You've had a rough night. Happy New Year."

Roman then kisses me right on my mouth.

"What was the kiss for?" I ask him, since his statement and kiss come at such an inopportune time.

"You passed out way before midnight and I didn't get my New Years’ kiss, so I took it now," he explains to me.

"Yeah, and how was it?" I ask with a smirk.

"Pretty gross. You taste like puke. Now you know how much I like you; I'll even kiss your pukey lips." 

I'm alone in my bed later on New Years’ day. I don't remember Roman leaving. I do remember riding home in The Ghost with the same guys earlier in the morning, and I faintly remember leaning up against Malik and accidentally dripping drool all over him as I went in and out of consciousness. What I remember the most, and what I am still going through, is the most horrendous hangover I have ever experienced.

I've heard of these things happening, but I had yet to encounter one myself. My stomach is still twisting and nauseous, but even worse, is the splitting feeling in my head which only gets worse with every small movement I make. I reach for my phone to check the time, but the usual spot on my nightstand is empty. My legs wobble when I get up and out of bed to go look for it. I feel like I'm going to get sick again. I push the feeling down and start searching my room.

I end up finding the phone under my bed. I cannot for the life of me figure out how it got there, but I guess I should be thankful I have it at all, considering how easily the phone could've ended up in the puke bucket with my charm.

My stomach sinks again when I see the time. It's already two in the afternoon. In my frenzy to find something to wear, I notice a note on my dresser. Next to the note is a Gatorade and a couple of pills I assume are Advil. I read the note.

Didn't want to wake you sweetheart but the team has a meeting before the Miami tournament next week so I'll text you later

I personally don't know why anybody would plan a function for the day after New Years’, but since the holiday fell on a Saturday night and today is Sunday, a lot of people are doing it. I even have a wedding shower to attend, and I wasn't looking forward to it in the first place. The shower is for an uber conservative friend of the family, and is being held at a church. Church and I don't get along very well, talk about a stress trigger, but I put on a skirt and blouse and make my way.

Right away, the smell of the food makes me nauseous when I enter the room the party is held in. I ignore the squeeze in my stomach and look around for someone I know so I can hurry up and sit down. The invitation for the shower mentioned the party was unisex, both men and women were welcome, so it wasn't too surprising to see my grandpa with my mom sitting at a table with a couple of other people who I don't know.

I sit down next to my grandpa and sip on the water and coffee he already has held out in front of me. Grandpa Joe knows everything. Everyone at our table is in the process of making unnatural small talk until the party begins, but for me, the effort is pointless. The act is annoying and awkward. I have nothing in common with anybody, and I will never see these people again. My mom is over here as loud as can be, chatting and laughing away with everyone, and the twinge I feel when I watch makes me realize how sometimes I do wish I could be more like her.

When the hostess of the party begins to talk, I immediately know this is not going to be like any bridal shower I have ever been to. The first twenty minutes is a full on church sermon and is followed by another twenty minutes of preaching why God should come first, even before marriage and family.
W-T-F
. What a pep talk for the bride-to-be. Is she for real? Listening to the lady spew this kinda crap is making me sick. Uh oh. Nope, I think it's the hangover.

"As you grow together as husband and wife, never forget who is responsible for your happiness. In order to receive true happiness, you must always serve God before each other and before anything," the mean preaching lady scolds, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.

"Honey, are you okay?" my mom leans over and asks me.

"No. I'm gonna vomit."

"Yeah, I know. Some of the religion shit can make a person ill, can't it?" Grandpa mutters, unfazed by my impending crisis.

"No, Grandpa, Mom, I mean I'm gonna puke for real, like right now."

I put my hand over my mouth and begin dry heaving.

"Oh, my God-goodness," she changes her wording and looks warily out of the corner of her eyes, as if she thinks someone will smite her for saying the word God in a church.

"Here, try a muffin."

She waves a cranberry muffin in front of my face, and I swear I can hear Lucifer laughing at me as the gates of hell open up right here in church.

I physically feel the dredge as my face drains of color. With my hand still over my mouth, I stand abruptly and cause my chair to knock backward with a crashing sound that is only amplified by the sterile dome-shaped room. I see heads turn and eyes dart toward me as I run out of the room and then out of the church into the parking lot. I barely get through the last set of doors before I'm hunched over and retching poisonous foam all over the concrete.

After my stomach settles, I decide to sit on the curb to catch my breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grandpa Joe walk out the doors. He sits down next to me, wraps an arm around my shoulder, and starts rubbing his hand up and down.

"You should've seen the look on the old bat’s face when you stormed out of there. It was priceless!" he says, laughing.

"I'm sure it was," I snort out with a smirk on my face.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Nothing, really, I'm just terribly hungover."

"Ahh, yes that's what your mom thought. Was it worth it?" he asks without judgement.

I contemplate the question for a while, and then I look at him with certainty in my face, and I answer with the truth.

"Yes. Every second."

I didn't want to go back in to the overly judgmental wedding shower so I end up driving home. When I walk in, I'm surprised to find Enz home. He is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of something I don't recognize in front of him. His head is hung low and he's rubbing his temple like he has a headache. Maybe he had a wild weekend also. I hope so, he deserves it.

"Hey! How was your weekend? What did you do for New Year's?" I ask him.

"Oh, you know, stayed in and watched the ball drop-
by myself
," he replies as he looks up at me.

The tone in his voice tells me he is not pleased.

"What? Why didn't you do something with Marty?"

"She was out of the state visiting friends, so to top it off, she wasn't even in the same time zone."

"Oh. I'm sorry that sucks." I scrunch up my nose.

"I told her I didn't mind she was going because I have my own tradition."

Ouch, I know where this is headed.

"I told her all about how we stay in and order Chinese and play scrabble and cards. Every year. How every year we watch the ball drop together."

"I'm sorry," I say, ashamed. "I thought because we both had a boyfriend and girlfriend we for the first—”

"You didn't even talk to me first, Bee," he interrupts.

"I know, and I said I was sorry but you have to understand how now—"

"Now what? Now we don't tell each other things. Now we don't need each other anymore? I was practically the only thing to get you through high school, and then this is how it is? You get a boyfriend and none of what I do matters? With everything I've done for you, it all just ends."

Okay, now he's making me mad.

"You know, there are a lot of things you don't know about me. Some of it isn't good, but none of it is your fucking business anymore. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't need you to save me anymore. I need you to be my friend while I work on myself now. I thought you would be happy. Happy for me and happy you are officially off the hook when it comes to me being your problem. I shouldn't have to feel guilty for something I'm not at fault for."

"You were never my problem! You were my best friend," he whispers the last part.

"You still are my best friend," I remind him as my eyes fill up with tears.

He looks at me for a long ten seconds or so and then turns around and walks into his bedroom. He closes the door softly, but I definitely hear it lock.

The next morning, I wake to the smell of coffee, which is completely unusual because Enzo doesn't drink it. I'm sure I look like one of those cartoon characters who float with their nose in the air as I follow the aroma out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. When I get there, I see Enz already pouring my cup.

"What are you up to today?" he asks me while he hands me my cup.

"Oh, you know, crying on the corner of Stupid Street and Overwhelming Avenue."

"I had a dream about you last night."
Weird.

"Did you?" I ask.

"Yep, you drowned in a swimming pool filled with hot coffee," he says with a smirk.

"Nice. Love me or hate me because both are in my favor," I recite the famous Shakespeare quote we sometimes say to each other when we bicker. "All right, Miles Teller, your dry sarcasm is on point this morning; keep it up, and I'm gonna start thinking you're just a jackass."