Cabin Fever for the Denizens of the Deep

In my list of surreal evenings, last night takes the cake.

I was going a little crazy because I'd gone ten days without seeing anyone, staying at home and splitting my time between catching up on tv series (Heroes, Robin Hood, Samantha Who?, Supernatural, Band of Brothers, and so on), movies (Breakfast at Tiffany's, Love and Other Disasters ―totally worth seeing!!―, and all) writing up a new original story that I might actually get around to publishing if I finish it (!!!) and lounging about miserably.

Yeah, that might explain the lack of updates, because who wants to hear me rant about how hot Santiago Cabrera is? No one, that's who.

I'd dropped by Slim's place during the weekend and we'd lounged about as he taught me how to play Magic (at last! I've been wanting to know for years!) of his own volition, and we'd played Resident Evil Zero in the dark, making lewd commentary and voiceovers.

But I still needed to get out and see more people, because I've come to terms with my status as a social creature. And there was only so much of sick Slim I can really handle at one time.

Although I did encourage him to go to work last week, even if his stomach still hurt, mostly because I want him to make money and not lose a job he evidently enjoys. He apparently listened, because he showed up to work every morning, and seemingly made a decent job of it.

And, it seems, getting out and thinking about something new for a change (as opposed to staying home alone and miserable) improved his health and his spirits. I didn't get any more details than this, and frankly didn't want to appear like a nagging girlfriend by inquiring. But I was glad for him.

Back to the matter at hand. As much as Slim was getting better, I was getting nastier. I was depressed, lazy, and tired all the time. I needed something to pick me up. So when I heard that Maria, Iva and Mel would be at Moe's last night, I guess I knew better than to avoid it on the terms that there weren't going to be enough people. I HAD to get out, size of party be damned.

One of my best nights at Moe's had been two weeks ago. I didn't expect last night to top it. In fact, before you get your hopes up, it didn't. If Naked Night had to be rated a ten, last night was a mere five.

Which is a whole five points more than what I was anticipating.

I stayed with Maria, and was surprised when I spotted Anthony. He was, to his great dismay, forced to stay sober because he was driving himself home, and he left soon after arriving. I drank with Maria, Mel and Iva. They had a group of other girls around, but I can't say I knew these girls as much as they did. I'd seen them around, that was all.

"CM, let's go see if Iva is upstairs," Mel eventually called to me, and I noticed then that Iva was gone. I didn't mind the change of scenery, so I followed her into the upstairs bar, which was surprisingly crowded. A short interlude with Iva brought us back downstairs into the lobby.

Which was when I noticed a familiar face in the line waiting to be ID'd.

"Ban?" I called, surprised, and Mel and I made our ways to the grate to greet him. It was then I noticed he was accompanied by Guy and Drew. It was a small group, but a pleasant surprise. I was glad to see them, and would have greeted them further, but Mel dragged me away to go dancing. I stayed around to dance for a moment, but eventually decided I had to go talk to them. So I excused myself to Mel, Iva and Maria, as well as their friends, and left the dance floor to go up into the bar.

The bar was even more crowded than it had been at first. I couldn't believe this. I'd seen busy nights at Moe's, but this was unexpected. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who'd felt the need to go out.

I spotted Ban in the crush of people by the bar, and made my way as smoothly as possible over to him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" An incredulous voice suddenly asked in my ear.

I turned. What!?

"SLIM?"

He's standing tall and sober, looking down at me with a surprised look.

"What are you doing here?" I retort, perhaps not as intelligently as I can usually manage. "I didn't think I'd see you here!" I exclaim, repeating the obvious. "I mean, I called your place earlier to offer you a lift―"

"CM!" Rick jumps at my shoulders and hugs me to the point of strangulation. Over his chokehold, I notice Michelle and Liz too.

"CM?" Michelle echoes, stunned. "How did you― Where are you coming out of?"

"I got here by my own means, thanks," I say, disengaging from Rick's hold. "I had to get out."

I'm a little surprised. Gabriel had only mentioned that Iva, Maria and Mel would be there. Seeing all these people was a definite point up from my zero score so far. I was glad.

"Come on, guys," Ban said, darkly, as I spoke to Liz and Michelle excitedly, only too aware of Slim's constant presence right next to me. I was trying to stop paying attention to him, because if I didn't, I'd come across as desperate, or― holy shit, who even cared? I bet he didn't.

But not paying attention to Slim when he's wearing that dark grey Billabong polo and those Point Zero jeans? It's hard.

Ban vanished in the crowd, and Rick followed him. Slim, seeing that we girls were still engaged in hyper conversation, must have made his choice, because he wordlessly followed the guys.

I was about to follow them, at Liz's suggestion, but Michelle stopped me and hissed, in my ear, "By the way, latest news: Ban got dumped."

"Oh." I blinked. "Oh. Oh, shit! Is he okay?"

"He's putting on a strong façade," Michelle said, grimly, "but he's shattered."

"Yeah, Guy and Drew were really stupid about it, convincing him to find some other girl to sleep with tonight―" Liz said, pushing me to follow Slim before the trail he'd left in his wake closed up again, "―but I'm hoping he'll know better than to throw himself into that so soon."

I nodded, exasperated. It was ridiculous that the only two guys in the gang with insightless minds would be the only two guys to actually dispense advice on how to cure heartbreak. Guy and Drew infuriated me in that way, being all talk and no walk, and over-confident when they're not.

I thought the guys would head downstairs, but instead, they headed towards the balcony overlooking the dance floor, where Rick, Guy and Drew had secured a table. I sat between Rick, Michelle and Drew, and Slim was on Drew's other side.

I tried chatting with Drew, but he hardly responded. So I got tired and kept conversing with Michelle, until I felt a poke on my shoulder.

"CM. CM!"

I turned. Slim was looking at me with a big, cheerful grin. I couldn't help it. I grinned back.

"Hey, I didn't think I'd see you here tonight. How's the stomach?"

"It's good," he replied, looking pleased. "I'm getting better. Honestly, I didn't think I'd be here tonight either, but―"

"CM," Guy interrupted, looking unapologetic, "do you know what band's playing onstage tonight?"

"No," I replied. "Well, the lead singer has really short bleached white hair. And she sings decently."

"Oh. Whatever." Guy turned away to look back down at the throng. I shot Slim a glance, and he mirrored my perplexed look.

It melted into a new smile, though, and Slim leaned forward over Drew's lap to say, "Wanna play a game with me?"

He was blatantly ignoring everyone else. I felt a small thrill at this. "Depends," I laugh. "What kind of game?"

We were both leaning towards each other over Drew's lap. Slim laughs out loud ―I hadn't heard him laugh like this since two weeks ago― "Let's point and laugh at the people on the dance floor who aren't smiling!" He motioned at the railing by our table. "It's hard, because of the strobe lights, but I'm sure it can be done. And it's freaking hilarious!"

I know why he's suggesting this. The last time I'd visited him, I'd complained about the unpleasant atmosphere of the Light Ultra Club, with its expensive but tiny drinks, its business-class clientele, its frigidity, the air of boredom on everyone's face as they seemed to party only because it was part of their social duty, and not for fun, and the general mating pheromones all over the place, those of men looking for a slut, and those of women looking for a millionaire. Impossible matches, therefore guaranteed disappointment.

Generally, I'd been underwhelmed. Slim had thought this fact absolutely hilarious, leading us to emphatically discuss how we both love bars more than clubs (and leading to an awkward contemplative silence that I had to break before we slipped into more silent awkwardness).

So the fact that he'd make a game of it was a second point up. We therefore turned with rigorous purpose towards the dance floor, trying to spot those who looked annoyed at being forced to party. We spotted quite a few, but not nearly as much as there had been at the LUC (a good thing, trust me).

At one point, I spotted a girl who was hardly moving, bobbing her head slowly and looking at her friends with a flat, bitchy look, one I'd associated with girls who think that being frigid on the dance floor would still get them a new boyfriend. I tried pointing her out to Slim.

"Look, right there! With a drink and a black tube top."

"Where?" Slim's eagerness to find her had him half standing out of his chair. We were both cracking up, ignoring the Drew-shaped barrier between us completely, seeing as he was being a bore and not looking with us.

"There! In the very middle! There's this group of really rowdy guys there? Well, just before them."

"... I can't see her! Point her out!"

I extended my arm, really conspicuously (but who cares?), and pointed, "There."

To my surprise, Slim moved out his chair, leaned over, and pressed his temple against mine to get my angle of view. The brush of his hair against my cheek was soft, and the warmth of him seeped in comfortably. It wasn't necessary for him to do it, so the fact that he did stunned me. Very pleasantly.

"Can you see her?" I asked, over the booming of the speakers.

"Oh! Yeah, now I do!" He started cracking up. "Hahaha she looks like she swallowed a lemon!"

"Seriously. And her friend looks bored, too."

We move apart as Drew leans forward to pour himself more beer from the pitcher on the table.

"Check that guy in the white button down shirt," I tell Slim over Drew's head. "He's got a girlfriend, but he's eyeballing that other girl!"

"Jesus, I hate guys who do that," Slim said, only partly amused. "There are few things more pathetic than people dancing as a couple―" He demonstrates a one-person grinding couple, "―but who, as they dance with their chum, keep looking around for new prospects. It's gross. And it's just sad when the girl does it too." He pauses, and we exhange eye-rolls.

I turn my attention back to the dance floor. When I turn back to look at Slim, he's got a drink in his hand, and is sitting back, smiling at me.

Concernedly, I ask, "Um. Slim, should you be drinking?" I mean, because of his stomach irritation and the healing ulcers and all.

At the moment where I finish asking my question, Liz drops into the chair next to Slim and takes her drink back from his hand. Slim motions with a grin.

"The timing of that was impeccable," he comments, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement. I shoot him a smile, and turn to Rick as he pokes me.

"Confirm this for me: on the stage there, is that Amy?"

Moe's has a special Friday night thing where anyone who's celebrating their birthday can sign up for a beer-drinking song. The song is always the same, and whatever band is on that night hosts it. It basically goes:

Allez l'ami, (Come friend,)

C'est moi, c'est moi, (That's me, that's me,)

Prends bien ton verre, (Pick up your glass,)

Et surtout, (And be sure)

Ne le renverse pas: (Not to spill it:)

Et... (And...)

glou et glou et glou et glou... (these are onomatopea for drinking, the sound of every mouthful as it is swallowed; it continues until whoever is drinking has effectively finished their glass or cup, thus prompting them to go as fast as possible)

Il est des nôtres, (He is one of ours,)

Il a bu son verre comme les autres! (He has downed his glass like all the others!)

It's a cheerful song, and whenever this time of night comes up, they line up people celebrating their birthday that week onstage, hand them a cup of beer, and make them drink. The whole bar sings along.

I know for a fact that Amy's birthday is not in July.

"You're right!" I exclaim. "That's Amy!"

At this, Drew, Guy and Ban perk up, and lost my esteem by exclaiming, "Sweet, she's drunk!" "She'll be easy!"

"Guys!" Liz exclaims, expressing the disgust she, Michelle, Slim and I feel at this. "How can you say that?"

"No, no," Drew says, laughing, "stay here, folks. I'll be right back with her."

"I'm going with him," Liz says, annoyed, and follows in his wake. I roll my eyes. Less than five minutes later, Amy arrives with a cheerful squeal on the balcony, and jumps on Slim.

"Sliiiiiiimmmm!!!! Oh my god, SLIM, I didn't think you would be there I wanted to see― OH MY GOD, CM!!!!!!!"

I had stood to come to Slim's aid (he'd shot me a helpless, panicked look) and Amy's noticing me got me a glomp. A literal one. I actually fell backwards, and if Slim hadn't been there to catch both of us, I'd have gotten a concussion or something.

Amy is drunk.

Very, very drunk.

She can't stand on her own two feet, but she's so happy to see us that, in fact, she isn't using her feet. She's climbing all over Slim and I, hugging and kissing us both with glee and loud affection.

"OH MY GOD, CM, SLIM, I SOOOO WANTED TO SEE YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH!!!"

"We love you too, Amy," I laugh, trying to keep upright as she clings to me like a koala. Behind Slim (who keeps trying to help pry Amy off me, or at least to share the load because my legs can't support both our weights, bless him), I see Drew, Rick, Guy, and Ban's dismayed faces.

Oh. That's right. They don't know that Slim, Amy and I have been up to a lot of crazy stuff. It's our little secret, and as Amy collapses between us, drawing us over her, our faces come close, and he shoots me a secret smile.

"Wanna go outside?" He whispers to me.

I can't help but smirk back. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"OH MY GOD," Amy exclaims, overhearing the suggestion, "OUTSIDE? WE SHOULD TOTALLY GO OUTSIDE!"

As she stumbles forward, Slim and I are awarded an embarrassing view of her butt, and her jeans that fell a little low. Slim averts his eyes, unable to keep from smiling, and I bring Amy upright again. Then, in one swift movement, I grab the waistband of her jeans on both sides and pull them back up so that her butt crack is properly covered. Slim watches me do this with wide eyes, and bursts out laughing.

"I am not nearly drunk enough for this," I say, laughing. Slim shoots me a jokingly imploring look.

"Neither am I. Come on, let's do it."

"YESSS LET'S GO OUTSIDE!!!" Amy concurs.

"Outside, she says," Slim decrees, and I give in.

"Wait, what's going on?" Drew asks, dismayed. "What about us, Amy?"

"NO, DREW, YOU STAY HERE. I'M GOING WITH MY TWO BESTEST FRIENDS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. BUT YOU STAY HERE AND HAVE FUNNNN."

"You with me?" Slim asks me, softly, and I grab Amy's arm, pulling her to her feet, trying to solidify her wobbly legs.

"Of course," I reply, and he smiles broadly at me. This is unbelievable. He hardly spoke to anyone else, and he's taking the first occasion to leave.

With me.

And drunk Amy.

Speaking of whom, her demonstrative joy tried to spread a lot. Slim and I wrestled her off the balcony (where she nearly French-kissed one of the bouncers to apologize for accidentally hitting him with her flailing arms), down the stairs (where she nearly broke her leg, twice) and through the throng of people on the dance floor (I held her up, preventing her from kissing random strangers or flailing and hitting too many people, while Slim trailed behind me, laughingly apologizing to everyone we close-encountered).

At long last, we made it outside, and I had to slap my hand over her mouth to keep her from whooping very, very loudly and shrilly. The majority of smokers outside looked at us in suspicion and shuffled aside as though she were plagued.

"OH MY GOD," she shrieked, "CM! SLIM! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GUYS ARE HERE! I MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUCH I LOOOOVE YOOOUUU!"

"Okay, Amy, we love you too, but you're going to have to be quieter now. We're in a residential area," I said as she swung herself between me and Slim.

"BUT I'M NOT LOUD," she said.

"Yes, Amy, you are," Slim confirmed, mirth shining in his eyes.

"Oooooooh!!! OKAY, I'll be REALLY quiet!!!!"

"You should try whispering," I laughed.

"Whisper? Like this?" She wasn't really whispering, but at least she wasn't shouting anymore, so Slim and I acquiesced. Unfortunately, this seemed to require all her skill, and she stumbled. Slim and I, with a general 'whoa!' caught her right before she could hit the cement.

"Amy," Slim says, "look, just put an arm around our waists, we'll hold you up." With that, he took her arm, slung it around his narrow waist, and pulled her up by the armpits. I did the same from my side, and we held her in the hopes of keeping her upright.

Impaired in this fashion (try carrying 120 pounds of laughing dead weight), Slim and I dragged her down the back alley we now knew quite well, and towards the park where we'd run shirtless two weeks before.

"So are we going to get naked for real this time?" Amy exclaimed, her excitement childish.

Slim shot me an amused look. "No, Amy, I think this time you're keeping your clothes on."

I pulled my tongue at him. Amy and I share the same first name, so he could have been addressing me as well. "Why do I hear a tinge of disappointment?" I asked, and he pulled his tongue at me.

"You're going too faaaast," Amy complained as we paced slower than ever.

"Look, Amy, if you want, I'll carry you on my back, but if we're seen loitering we might get slapped with a fine."

"Oooh, that'd be so fun!"

With a glance at one another, Slim and I presumed she meant the piggy-back ride, not the fine. So Slim leaned forward and she jumped on his back. I helped her get adjusted, and he requested she not keep him in a chokehold.

"Slim?" She asked, not whispering.

"Yes, Amy?" He asked as we strode at a much swifter pace now towards the darker parts of the park, where we were mostly invisible.

"I love you guys soooo much!"

"And you're slipping off. CM, could you help her stay up?"

"What, you want me to grab her ass and push?" I ask, incredulous.

"No, wait, I've got it!" Amy exclaims, loudly, and she pulled herself up onto Slim's back, pulling at his shoulders. He grunted, and readjusted her weight.

"Amy, you're choking me."

"SORRY!!!!"

"Ssshhhhh!" I hiss, unable to keep from giggling.

"You're right, CM," Slim commented as he got back to his usual stride, "I won't ask you to do inappropriate things to girls anymore."

"Good man. And anyway, the only ass I've ever touched was yours―"

"Okay, now you hush," Slim hissed at me, shooting me an amused look. "This is between you and I." The smile he shot me was cheerful.

"I love you guys SO much," Amy mumbled drunkenly, not even listening to what we were saying. "We should totally take our shirts off and run around in our bras."

"Slim doesn't own a bra," I say, still smiling at him. He raises a brow.

"Shall I take yours?"

In a flash, I recall what bra I'm wearing, and flush. It's brand new black lace with a lavender ribbon lining. I hadn't even known he was going to be there tonight, but I'd decided to wear it anyway (okay, yes, Slim has an effect on what underwear I put on, because obviously he's intent on seeing more of it since two weeks ago).

"Errr―"

"Noooo, Slim, silly, you won't need to take anyone's bra! You just have to take your pants off again!"

"What a relief," he commented blandly, and we held down a snicker at Amy's drunken expense.

"Wait, put me down!"

"Two meters, Amy, and I'm seating us on a picnic table, okay?"

"Okay!"

They sat, carefully, and Amy immediately fell on my lap. Slim pulled her back upright, laughing. He and I were having a great time, in spite of the insanity.

"Guys?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"I love you guys."

"You told us," Slim commented, amused.

"Do you know how much I had to drink?" Amy loudly inquired.

"No. Tell us," I said, and watched as she nearly fell off the bench. Slim and I reached for her at the same time, pulling her back up.

"Okay. I had ONE BLOODY CAESAR, and TEN STRAIGHT VODKA SHOTS, and A WHOLE PITCHER OF... of something. Oh, RIGHT! IT WAS A PITCHER OF RUM AND COKE!"

"We can smell that," Slim snickered.

"Quieter, Amy," I whispered.

"Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Slim comments, between chuckles.

"Yesh," Amy said, falling face forward in his lap. "Sliiim?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"I think I hit my head on the cement before."

"It did a big 'pock' when you did."

"Yeah. It's gonna hurt tomorrow morning, isn't it?"

She was, basically, conversing with Slim's crotch, and his dismayed look at me told me he wasn't sure what to make of it. But I couldn't help laughing to tears.

"What? You look bothered," I whispered to him, laughing.

"Yes, Amy, it's going to bruise, probably." To me, he hissed, "I don't take advantage of drunken girls. It's wrong. Our levels of inebriation must be relatively identical for me to accept this. And I'm stone-cold sober right now."

"I'M SO SORRY!!!!" Amy suddenly wailed, flying off Slim's lap to land on me. "CM I AM SO SORRY I RUINED your night you didn't even get to drink!!"

"I wasn't really planning to," I assure her, as she suddenly breaks away and throws herself on the grass in front of us.

"Amy?"

"I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh. Shit. Okay." Surprisingly, neither Slim nor I were particularly alarmed. "Be sure to put your locket away in your shirt so that it doesn't fall in. And tie your hair?"

"Yes, I'll tie my hair," Amy said, sluggishly putting her hair up. I step forward and help her put the strands in the elastic band. "Seriously, guys, I'm sorry you have to sit here and watch me be drunk."

I look back at Slim as he sits on the bench, and join him. He moves closer and we keep close to cut off the cool night air. He's warm. "Don't worry," I say, but I'm looking at him. He's smiling back. "These are, for some reason, some of the best memories I'm making of my summer."

"They are," he agrees, softly, his eyes as warm as his flank, and we turn to look at Amy as she's getting ready to hurl.

It's an odd sort of poetic moment, I guess, and Slim and I exchange tight-lipped smiles.

And, without warning, Amy starts to puke. I realise this is disgusting, but somehow, Slim and I were glad for her and not disgusted at all. As I watched in silence, Slim would whisper soft encouragements to just let it all out, promising she'd feel better afterwards, but he didn't move from next to me.

"Amy, how many stomachs do you have in there?" I inquire after she's hurled the contents of three human stomachs. Slim chuckles.

"You know," she says, to the patch of grass she just fed, "my ex... he found another girl already." She coughs and bile slips from her mouth onto the grass. "That's why I'm so drunk."

"Damn," I mumble. "He's a jerk."

"You deserve better," Slim says, in a comforting tone.

"I can't believe he'd go for that little slut, too. Goddammit."

I'll spare you the subsequent details, but let's say that we exited the park with a much cleaner Amy, although a much more depressed one.

We stayed on the edge of the park's parking lot, by the back alley, because Amy wasn't feeling stable enough to walk; we stayed there an hour or so. As Amy emptied her stomach miserably, he and I talked, quietly.

Then, the first police car stopped by. They wanted to know if Amy was going to need an ambulance. We assured her that no, she'd be fine, that we were taking care of her.

The police car left, and I turned to Slim and said, "You know, I like taking care of people. It's my nursing complex. Most girls have it."

"I like caring too," he said, from where he leaned on a cement block, next to me. "Are you saying I'm a girl?"

"No. You have a hero complex. It's the equivalent."

He smiled. "Right. I'm a hero. And an emperor." He eyed the small pin I bought in Texas that says 'It's not easy being queen of the entire universe!', a joke he is only too familiar with. "You know, I'd like to have superpowers."

"Wouldn't we all?"

He's about to say something when his cell phone rings. He answers it.

It's Ban. They're looking for us. So Slim details how to find us, and hangs up.

"I know," he says before I can say anything, "I shouldn't have, but we were gone too long and they'll think I raped her." He's joking. "But honestly, I couldn't ward them off any longer. They called while you were off, helping her to pee. I told them not to look for us. Now it's just been too long."

"Okay, it's okay."

"Amy?" Slim says, leaning over her crumpled form, "Amy, some friends are coming."

They did come. In a large group. Slim and I stayed near her, trying to ward them off as they tried to get Amy upright. She just wasn't feeling good. But eventually, we were shoved aside, and Ban, Drew, Guy and some of Amy's friends closed in on her.

And they began to tease her. And mock her.

"Okay, guys, quit that," I said, as I could see Amy's mood deteriorating.

"Come on," Drew said, in his trademark clueless manner, "we're just having fun here. Amy, how much did you drink tonight?"

I just want to punch the smarmy little grin off his face. They have no right to mock someone who's already feeling shitty like that. I'm about to fume, but Amy's girlfriends close in. Ban makes a move on Amy, who pushes his away. I noticed then Slim coughed, and he was hiding his smile behind his hand.

At this point, Dany, Amy's best friend, comes up. He's as drunk as she is, if not more. Soon, we have a whole freaking convention of people making a spectacle of the two drunks. I'm furious. How dare they?

"CM."

I look up. Over the mocking people, I see Slim, by Amy's prone form, and he shoots me a soft warning look. Keep your cool. Don't make a scene. It's not our place anymore.

I'm enraged. I stalk off, across the parking lot and towards the park fence. I lean against it, facing away from the group of assholes, and try to cool off.

The truth is, I'm coiled inside. I just want to let go, to sing, shout, scream, run naked across the park. But I can't. It's despicable.

I see a shadow growing next to mine, and turn.

Slim. He's got his I'll-cheer-you-up-if-it's-the-last-thing-I-do face on.

"BOOYEAH!"

And Rick. Ugh, I so don't need Rick right now.

"Hi."

Rick pushes me, jokingly. My arm scrapes the chain link fence and I shove back.

"Thanks for nothing, jerk," I say, and he thinks my scratching my arm is hilarious. Before he can retaliate with an insult, I turn away. Slim's shadow reaches for Rick's― there's a rustle of cloth, and they both still.

"That's wasn't chill of you to do, man," Slim says, calmly. He never uses this tone with me. It's a reprimand and a warning.

"Chill out," Rick says. "So. Where have the two of you been? We've been looking for you all over the place."

Michelle joins us. I feel stifled. Why can't they all just leave me alone?

"We were looking after Amy," Slim replies, and I can tell he's feeling the same frustration as I am. We both just want to be left alone. The thing is, Slim and I have the capacity of getting alone time, even when the other is there.

But Rick, Guy and Michelle invading our space is a lot to handle. Guy is absurd, Rick is annoying, and Michelle likes to contradict everything we say.

After a short argument-filled conversation, I find a way to break away from them, using my cell phone as a reason to leave. I walk away, down the baseball field's parking lot and towards a deserted area. God, I hate people sometimes. The way theytreat Amy, the way they mock Dany, the way they just pushed Slim and I aside for kicks and honours when WE're the ones who've been taking care of her for almost two hours. UGH.

I put my cell phone away and enjoy the sound of my footsteps in the silence. By now, behind me, two police cars have dropped by, inquiring after the two drunks. I prefer not to add my two-cents, mostly because Amy and Dany are weeping miserably as their 'friends' smother them in hopes of comforting them. There's nothing I can do about that, and nothing my current temper would allow.

So I walk, instead. The night air feels good, and I'm walking along the baseball field bleachers. I notice an opening in the fence.

Well, okay.

As I turn to head into the bleachers section, I hear a set of running footsteps behind me.

"Hey!"

Slim. I wonder if he's alone, this time.

"Hey, slow down, there." His tone is good-humoured, and he's a little breathless as he reaches my side. "You looked all pensive as you wandered... You okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, and I head to the front of the bleachers. He's alone. He ran after me. All his friends are over there, and he ran after me. I decide not to think about it too much.

"Are you sure? You looked... upset."

I sit. He sits right next to me.

I shoot him a glance.

"Okay, no, I'm not fine. And neither are you."

He snorts, his smile fading into a sad one. "Yeah, I figured you'd understand."

"I can't believe the way they treated Amy. Mocking her. It's really just... disrespectful. And Ban! And Drew! Making passes at her when she's so miserable! How can they? Don't they have any conscience?"

"I know. Sometimes my friends really disgust me," Slim says, softly. "I can't believe they just pushed us aside. I mean, we freaking took care of her for two hours!"

We're whispering, and I know nobody can see us where we sit. Somehow, I feel safe, here, on the bleachers with Slim.

"And the way they just―"

"―told us off when we tried to keep them from swarming them―"

"Yeah, exactly!"

The more we talk, the more in tune we get. The more I'm aware of how much I care for him.

"Slim?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever get to that point, hit me. Or something."

"First off," he says, pointedly, "I wouldn't hit you, because secondly, I wouldn't ever let you get to the point of sickness. Not," he adds, as an after thought, "that I think you could actually manage that much alcohol."

"Gee. Thanks."

"My pleasure," he replies with a smile. "But really, I guess..." He looks forward thoughtfully, "I guess what bothers me the most is that... This is going to sound childish and petty. Be warned."

"I'm warned," I smile.

"... I think I'm also upset because we won't get any recognition for actually taking care of her for two hours. Like, they sweep in at the end, when she's done, and reap all the thanks, but... I mean, it just seems unfair."

"That's not petty," I say, smiling. I reach up to rub his shoulderblades. "And honestly," I add, very softly, "I'm sure that she'll remember a bit of tonight, and she'll know that, the two of us, we were there for her."

We smile. His eyes, in the dark, are still warm.

"You know," he says, looking back at the park, "Ban found some other chick to fool around with." He nods at the dark park ahead of us. "They're in the playground right now. God, sometimes the guys disgust me. I mean, they don't seem to understand a thing about making relationships work. Most of them are only in it for the sex, or the gratifications of all kinds. They don't seem to know what love is... And Ban is not in a state for fooling around right now, if the whole break-up pain is true."

Slim launches into a speech I never expected him to say.

"I mean, Ban wants to be single but have a fall-back in case his flings don't work out. But relationships don't work that way. Guy... he treats girls like objects. He told me that he knew a couple of girls he could call up any time to have them over and give him a massage." Slim sounds outraged.

"But you know he's all talk and no walk," I say.

"Hah, I know that. So is Drew. Especially Drew. He's a lost cause. He brags about all the girls he could have, but never dares to actually make a move on them. Forget it. And Rick? Hell, I don't even want to think about Rick."

I laugh.

"Honestly," Slim admits, sadly, "the only friend of mine whose view of relationships is actually healthy... well, it seems to be PB, I guess."

And you, I complete, mentally. I know he doesn't dare talk about himself, for fear of sounding conceited.

"I keep hoping that everything I think of my friends is wrong," he admits, "but I think..."

"I know that what I think of my friends is true, sadly." I say. "Eva will never be happy, because she hopes for prince charming. She'll always be disappointed. Kitty always goes for guys who treat her like dirt. I mean, the guy she's with now would hug her, and shoo me away behind her back. As he was hugging her!"

Slim looks indignant on my behalf. He cusses. "You know, that really ticks me off. Really decent girls who are perfectly good, but who keep going for assholes... and why? Just because the jerks have some sick sort of charisma."

"You know what upsets me?"

"What?"

"Wonderful, talented, sweet, good-humoured, kind, funny, cultivated, intelligent guys... who go for little ditzes who don't know the first thing about reality and life."

He's silent for a split-second, absorbing this, then sighing and saying, "Okay, yeah, guilty. I'm sorry."

"Sorry..." I mumble. Doesn't he see? "You know, these guys... they don't seem to realise they deserve so much better."

He says nothing. I fall silent, too. It's not an awkward silence. It just seemed like a good moment to be quiet.

"You know," he suddenly starts again, "for the past two weeks, I realised..." I turn to look at him. He's smiling at me, and continues quickly, "It's really weird, but I haven't had a single dream for the past two weeks."

"It's not that you don't dream; it's that you don't remember them."

"I don't know. It's pretty weird. I mean, my dreams, they're pretty fucked up, usually."

I laugh. That's true enough. He likes to retell them to me.

"You know, I dreamed that I was crawling on these rocks―" I motion, and he laughs, "―and suddenly I come across this quarter-sized furball. And I turned to someone ―I don't remember who― and asked them what it was, and they said, 'They're mini-mice!' and I looked closer, and it was true! A tiny little furry mouse! It was so teeny!"

"And?" Slim looks incredulous and a little worried.

"And so I kept crawling, and the more we moved forward, the more mice there were! Plenty, plenty of really cute little furry mice!"

"Does this story have a point?"

"None whatsoever," I laugh. "I'm just saying. I want one of those small mice."

"Okaaay, I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened."

"Jerk."

Huge headlights came up behind us. I turned, worried. It was a police car. But they were doing a U-turn in the parking lot; they didn't even see us, in spite of the headlights.

"Are we trespassing by being here?" I asked, moving closer to Slim worriedly.

"I don't think so. But look, they didn't see us." The car moved away, not even slowing down. "See? We're perfectly invisible here." His whisper in my ear was playful.

"If they come back," I say moving away so I could see his face properly, "we're throwing ourselves down on the grass."

He rolled his eyes, but laughed.

We talked some fifteen more minutes. Mostly about geeky stuff like vampires and zombies. Suddenly, Slim's cell phone rang.

"It's Liz." He said, standing. I saw the end of our quiet time. "Hey? Liz. What's up?" I watched Slim as he looked disappointed by the interruption. He'd been in the midst of explaining a story idea he'd had. "No, we're by the baseball bleachers... No. I'm with CM... What? No. No, look, you can find us..." He stepped up next to me and we both stood on the bleachers, motioning with our arms. "You're facing us right now, we're waving. Can you see us?"

At this, Liz, from the other end of the parking lot, pointed us out. Rick broke off into a sprint to join us.

I must have made a disgruntled noise, because Slim snapped his cell phone shut and chuckled. He turned towards me and continued with his story. "So, then the main character―"

"Hey, why do you two always wander off, dammit?" Rick asked, loudly, joining us on the bleachers.

"It's what we do best," I say, and then turn back to Slim. He went on with his story, and we both ignored Rick blatantly as Slim spoke. We walked out the park, ignoring Rick's comments, and eventually he shut up. Slim and I were absorbed by what Slim was explaining to me. Slim's imagination is just as vivid as mine, but he lacks the patience to write everything down. He pretty much has everything memorized.

The car is there. It's time for us to leave. I check my watch.

It's 3:10AM. Holy cow. Moe's is closed by now!

"We're going home," Drew says. He's driving Ban's car. Ban, Guy, Drew, Rick and Slim are using the same lift to get home, and there's no space left in their car for me. But I turned to Liz and Michelle ―time alone with Slim was enough to clear my head and I was once again in a good mood― and asked, "Hey, Liz, can I have a lift?"

"Sure!!"

"But I'm hungry, so we're stopping by Mickey D's before heading home," Michelle interjects. I agree with her.

Before I could thank Liz for the lift, Slim took my shoulder. I turned.

"I'm off. See you."

Unexpectedly, we hugged. I could have hugged him much longer, but we were being watched from all sides, and he knew it. The hug was unusually brief.

And so, the guys left, and we girls walked off towards Liz's car.

Somehow, the conversation also drifted to romantic relationships, and I was staying relatively afloat until Michelle said, a little too lightly (she was fishing for information), "What about you, CM?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean, of the guys in the gang... Well, I guess it'd be Slim, right?"

"Michelle," I say, eating my Big Mac, "I have trouble imagining myself in any relationship, so this is weird."

"Well, you would be weird if you had a boyfriend."

"Thanks for that."

"But it wouldn't be weird if it were Slim."

I found nothing to say. Liz came to my rescue by changing the subject.

Why didn't I kiss Slim on the bleachers? I guess I was scared. I don't know if it would have been right. What if he turned me down? What if things became awkward? I think that's why.

Okay, I was scared shitless. I admit it. Things are going so well that it's like a freaking movie. Does that ever even happen in real life?

Love,
CM