Floating on Clouds

Warning: If sex talk disturbs you, skip this entry. We'll be back to the usual program next time, promise.

As I write this, I am deprived of sleep, overworked, a little sick, and extremely dopey.

Sleep-deprivation is because I spent two late nights at school, doing some editing on AVID, which is pretty much the bane of my existence. It helps that Gabe picks me up every time at midnight, thereby driving 45 minutes from his place, just to lift me home and protect me from the evil stalkers that might attack me in public transit.

Overworked is because I have five projects to finish, a whole movie to film in two weeks, two screenplays to write and overlook, and a team of twelve people to organise.

Yeah, twelve people. That movie will be the death of me.

On the upside, some of those people are Slim, Ban, Anthony, Rick, PB, Melanie, Maria, AA, Iva, Gabriel, Jeremy, Patricia and myself.

Dopey is because I'm overworked and a little sick not just for the above reasons but because of Gabe.

Reactions to the news of my dating Gabe have been as varied as they were numerous.

Mom reacted with such enthusiasm that pretty much everyone in the family knew it before November 14th was over.

Our common friends congratulated me on making the move, because 'for the love of god, Gabe was getting lovesick and annoying, you have no idea. And no offence, but I was getting REALLY sick of hearing about how beautiful and amazing you are.'

The Swiss, Gabe's best friend, was ecstatic. He started joking about my stealing his only love from him, but Gabe assures me that the Swiss has never appreciated one of his girlfriends so devotedly. "He adores you," is what Gabe said, happily.

Ban was super excited, and apparently claimed that I was the woman every man dreams of marrying one day. This upset Gabe, who warned me he'd be very jealous if I went for Ban. I told him Ben Barnes was more of a threat to his hold on me. Gabe said somewhere in the world was a bullet with Ben Barnes' name on it. I convinced him to pack him up and fed-ex him to Lyx instead. He agreed.

Melanie, AA and Anthony congratulated us. Anthony shook Gabe's hand and jokingly said, "I should say poor you, though." Gabe hates Anthony with a passion. He did not take this kindly. He spent the rest of the evening glaring daggers at the man. It was hilarious.

Gabriel hardly reacted. He went, "Wait. That name rings a bell. Did he ever work at a grocery store?" I gave up trying to explain to him who Gabe even was.

Eva was ecstatic on my behalf, but mostly profoundly jealous. I have to watch my tongue around her now. She wants the relationship I have with Gabe, if not Gabe himself, and gives me a guilt trip if I ever express how happy I am. She doesn't handle her singledom very well.

Kitty hasn't said a word. I don't even know what she's up to these days.

Rox, apparently, took it like a champ. Gabe wanted to tell her about it first, on account of his rejecting her last Halloween by telling her he wasn't ready to have a girlfriend. She was a little sad, but she still seems willing to be his friend.

Josie had an explosive reaction. She always wanted Gabe, and did not take my easy victory over her constant efforts very well. She wrote me an incensed message asking me how long we've been dating and how do I 'even know him anyway?? Is this a joke like that time in France, 'cause it's not funny anymore, okay??' I told her it was all true, we've been hanging out for roughly six months thanks to Kels, and I'm very happy, thanks for the enthusiasm. She cooled off, congratulated me coldly, then went on to harass Gabe about his not telling her sooner. Josie exasperates Gabe: he thinks she's flighty and superficial. He reminded her that she hadn't contacted him in two months, so why would he confide in her?

Kels took it a bit rough. I strongly suspect she had a crush on Gabe and got replaced by me. I feel guilty about it, but still, she helped Gabe out with me, and I appreciate it. I promised her that I wasn't going to steal Gabe away and that we still wanted her to hang out with us and the gang. She's taken her distances, but I don't think she'll stay that way long. She just needs time.

Gabe's bipolar ex, whom he removed and blocked from his Facebook friends and MSN, used her last resort to remind him of her existence. She texted him to tell him she still thought about him and that she hoped he was happy.

Gabe: Translation: She thinks about me with pure rage and desperately hopes you broke up with me and that I'm miserable without her.

Slim, on his part, was reserved in his reaction. At first he was cheerful, but then he toned it down with a nasty, "We'll see how it goes in four months when you lose your rose-tinted glasses."

I haven't spoken about Gabe to him since. What a jerk...

Until last night, when Michelle, Liz, Slim, Gabe and I went clubbing at the Radio Lounge. Gabe and Slim actually talked about CKY and Bam Margera. Slim seemed surprised that Gabe knew about them, and relaxed from then on. They got along so well during the evening that I was extremely pleased. At the end, when Gabe went to retrieve his car keys from the parking guy, Slim took a long drag of his mini-cigar and said, "You and Gabe. You're cute together."

And that was Slim's way of giving his blessing. I kissed his cheek. He said nothing else. And that's alright.

Gabe is pretty much the cheese to my macaroni, actually. Objectively, we share the same sense of humour, musical tastes, movie tastes and er, fantasies. We have the same determination, the same impatience with imbeciles, we're possessive of each other, unfailingly loyal, blatantly honest with one another...

I trust him more than I trusted Slim. Gabe's extremely oblivious to peoples' behaviour towards him and obvious about his own feelings. In a way, I can read him like a book. But I don't mind. It's comforting. And he seems to enjoy how easily I understand him.

It also helps that he keeps repeating to me how much he loves me and how amazing I am, basically venerating the ground I walk on... He's loved me for five months, and he sometimes slips up about us growing old together. He's so cute.

All the same, I can't say I mock his behaviour. I am, myself, completely in love with him. He's absurdly handsome, cultivated, funny, deliciously demented, and he has the tiny evil side of a cat who likes playing with his prey before going in for the kill. He gets me so fast, I'm usually in shock.

Intimate moments aren't automatically passionate, but they're all extremely pleasant. Gabe makes me shiver with a single touch. I make him a little delirious.

I love making him delirious. He's ridiculously handsome, especially when he's shirtless under me and kind of losing his mind. Bahahaha...

I shouldn't be telling you this, but I will anyway because eh. If you've read me thus far it's not like I have anything to hide. And besides, even if you're only thirteen, odds are you've heard this stuff before (society standards dismay me, honestly). Anyhow, my favourite activity involving Gabe's body (because I have other activities involving his heart, his sense of humour or his intelligence, I assure you) would have to be pinning him down and torturing him.

He's a big fan, apparently, if the resulting lump in his jeans is any indication. And you can't blame me: he's so fit and strong that sitting on top of him and making his beg kinda gives me a kick.

"You know," he once breathed in my ear, "I am using all my will power right now. You are very close to getting violated, kitten."

I just smirked at him, and squeezed his wrists: "Shut up. I didn't give you permission to talk."

He breathlessly chuckled and dropped the topic. Or forgot it.

We tend to forget things a lot when we're together.

Anyhow, we're at the point where we're seriously considering making a list of all our fantasies and trying them out. I had no idea I was so interested in pleasing our senses until the day where Gabe claimed it was better to wait before going all the way. I hadn't really expected to hurry it up; waiting is always better, but now I have a hot living playground that I don't intend to waste.

"You know I'm going to use you for your body, right?" I asked him last Friday.

"Are you?" He breathed, kissing my throat and running one finger up my spine. Holy goats, this guy can drive me insane. The first time we made out he figured me out completely. He found all my sensitive spots after half an hour of petting and has since then expertly used my weaknesses whenever he senses he's losing an argument. The bastard is good.

"Definitely. I hope you don't mind."

"I think I should be alright. Did I ever mention I love your breasts?"

"You might've." His fingers trail on the bare skin of my waist. This is my WORST weak spot. "AaaaAAaah Gabe, you jerk―"

"I'm sorry, too busy admiring how beautiful you are. Call back later."

The winter will be fun if he keeps on spreading so much body warmth, too. I could easily cuddle up with him and just spend all my days that way.

"There's something very special and intimate," he said, as we lay under his comforter at his apartment in Verdun (a Montreal neighbourhood), "about falling asleep with someone. Like, sex isn't quite as special, somehow. Sleeping with a person is a show of trust... UGH VAL Do you want me to tackle you?"

Okay, and his weak spots are the lobes of his ears and his nape.

I grinned. "You know what I love about your apartment?"

"It's remoteness and the fact that there's no one to interrupt when you're feeling creative?"

"That," I said, leaning up on my elbow to look down at him. "And the fact that it's fifteen minutes away from UQAM."

"Yes. I think you should sleep here next term. As often as humanly possible."

"I think that's a good idea. But the other bedroom is already taken by your roommate..."

"I think there's space. Hm..... Like right here." He pats the mattress right next to him. "I think that this is a perfect spot for you, right in the crook of my arm."

I kiss him. "But what if I turn into a werewolf and start tearing you limb from limb?"

"I think I might develop a fetish for furries. So please don't do that. I'd be profoundly disturbed."

I can't help it. I crack up. I'm still kind of holding him down. Suddenly, I feel him pushing up on my hands. I fight him, but he pushes me up WAY too easily. I stare down at him in shock. I'm not lying on top of him anymore. I'm sitting upright, unable to push him back, and his arms are casually outstretched to keep me there.

I stare. "Do you do push-ups or something?" I know he goes jogging at night, but I didn't think he worked his musculature too. I thought his pecs were just large by nature.

"Of course," he says, smirking up at me. "How else am I supposed to stay the alpha in this relationship?"

"Oh, please," I say, rolling my eyes. "Like you mind that much."

He thrusts upward. Okay, so he also works that part. Damn, my boyfriend is hot.

I look around, absently rubbing his chest with one hand. Hm, yep. There they are. The comfy muscles I enjoy resting against. Gabe has a little bit of body fat, as opposed to Slim. He's really self-conscious about it, but somehow, it's kind of sexy. At least I'm not touching a hard bag of bones. And this way I actually have something to hug and straddle.

"What are you looking at?" He asks, absently caressing my stomach.

"Looking for furniture I can handcuff you to. Like that chair, right there."

"Never done it on a chair," he says, a little tightly.

"Me neither, obviously." He knows about Bass, and my crush on Slim. He also knows I have plans for his own body. He insists that I do as I please with him. I fully intend to do just that. "But I'm a little upset. We don't have any handcuffs to begin with."

I look down at him. He's looking up at me with a corner smile.

Simultaneously, we joke, "Let's go to that sex shop near Dick's." The second time we'd met over the summer, I'd offered to enter a sex shop while walking with him and Slim. He'd thought it so comical that it had made quite an impression on him. We laugh.

"Val."

"Yes?"

"Je t'aime."

"Hm. Moi aussi je t'aime..."

My reaction?

I've never been so happy.

Love,
Val

Summer's Almost Over and I Am So Poor

Going out is expensive. Very expensive. After a while, my funds are kind of depleting. (Cue horror-filled expression.) I wish I could say that it was always worth every penny, but since cocktail drinks cost way more to buy than they do to produce, obviously I'm still getting ripped off.

Anyhow, I've come to terms with my status as a poor person.

Which didn't keep me from paying 50$ last evening for Kitty's goodbye party.

Seriously. Fifty bucks. That's four pitchers, right there. And all I got yesterday was a mixed salad, goat cheese tomato pasta, an apple pie slice and one Turquoise blue.

And thank god Josie didn't ask me to pitch in for the 600$ present. Instead, she and Kitty's boyfriend split. It's a good thing he paid for it, because it's pretty much his only use. Kitty has a tendency to go for bad boys, and this one is pretty much an asshole who treats her with about as much respect as he would to a puppy. Kitty doesn't realise she deserves much better than a guy whose only redeeming quality is his large wallet. He did NOTHING to prepare this goodbye party, except pay for Kitty's meal. Josie, Eva and I, on the other hand, busted our asses.

Because Kitty's leaving to study marine biology in Rimouski, some 600 kilometers away. While this breaks our hearts, we're relieved for her, because at least she won't have as many occasions to get used by the asshole boyfriend (who is probably planning his future squeezes for when she's away already).

Kitty isn't the only one who's leaving us. PB is, too. He's off to study publicity in Québec city, and as psyched as we are for his awesome prospects, we're sad to see him go. He was a large part of our group spirit, and some of us have known him for fourteen years (read: since preschool). To see him prepare his departure is like watching a brother leave.

We know we'll see him again, of course, but it won't be as frequently, and it just won't be the same.

Daycamps are almost over. Some of those who work as counsellors are already out. With every passing day, we can sense the increasing speed at which summer is coming to an end.

My brother is heading back to college next week. Most of my friends who haven't finished it yet too. So Rick, Mitch, Drew, Fred, Guy, Ban, AA, Anthony, Liz will also get busy. Iva has finished college, but she's heading off into the east of Montreal to study audio prosthetics, and we might not see her as much anymore.

Of my friends, we're actually a small number starting university this year. This is only because we're among the few who have aced all our classes in the past two years, and have none to finish in order to obtain our college diploma. Amy, Gabriel, Eva, Josie, Kels, Maria, Gabie, Slim and I are the only ones whom I know for sure will be spending regular time downtown Montreal at either the University of Montreal or the Université du Québec à Montréal.

That is to say that my group of friends has been narrowed down rather drastically: Eva, Josie, Kels and Gabie aren't attending the same university as I am. In fact, they'll be on the rich side of Mount Royal; Slim, Gabriel, Amy and I will be in the city-centre.

And of those four, the only one I'll be seeing on a (very) regular basis is Slim.

It always boils down to that, doesn't it?

This week Slim is at Dague's chalet somewhere up north, without electricity or a phone line. Go figure. Dague's whole family has pretty much adopted Slim, though, so I know he's having a lot of fun, even without news of him.

And if you were wondering how I'm faring since Tuesday, I can give you a little update, because a lot of you seemed really concerned.

First off, this isn't the first time I've been disappointed; those who were here since the start can probably remember Josie's cruel words back in February 2007, all of Slim's romances since then nonwithstanding. Being close to Slim is kind of a guarantee that things cannot be simple.

Secondly, I haven't seen Gabe since that time, but aside from my decision not to mess with him until I get things sorted out, it's come to my attention that Kels is interested in him. Seeing as Kels is my friend before Gabe, I don't intend to cross her in any way. I've got my own things to deal with without harming her.

And finally, I've forgiven Slim, for various reasons that I will highlight in a little bit.

Wednesday was a quiet day, spent moping a little and trying to make things alright, and reasoning with myself. I spent it talking with Lyx and Scop, and trying to ignore Mom as she tried to explain that Slim did not, in fact, mean to hurt me (she was there when Slim refused to go to the movies with me).

Yeah, I know. Mom turned traitor on me or something. But it's hard to ignore her when she adamantly declares that Slim would never want to hurt me, that he didn't mean it as an insult, that he preferred to talk with me rather than pay to see a movie he doesn't really want to see on principle (he's got odd principles, but I won't get into that).

But I wanted to mope, so I moped.

Thursday, though, I was already feeling a lot better. Ban called me mid-afternoon to ask me whether I wanted a ticket for a late showing of Tropic Thunder, to which I acquiesced happily. Ban was buying the tickets in advance, just in case, and I gathered that Rick, his girlfriend Steph, Amy, her friend Dany, Ban, Drew and Kels would be there.

I was still kind of sulking Slim, but I was softening by the day and the more time passed, the more I realised ―in part thanks to your comments to my previous post― that he had probably answered my queries to the best of his neutrality, and that he had not meant, in fact, to hurt my feelings. He just didn't want to engage them at all, because, as I came to understand, it's a risky territory.

And he'd looked so earnest when he'd left me, Tuesday, and he'd mentioned that if we went to the movies this week with the others, he'd like to come.

So when Ban fetched me in his beat-up car, nicknamed Olga, of all things, I asked, as casually as I could, "Did you call Slim for tonight?"

Which was when Ban said that he'd tried, without results.

I said, "He's out of cell minutes, though. Did you try―"

"No, I didn't try his house. Wanna do it? I'm picking Kels up too and we're heading to Drew's for a while."

"Okay." I let Ban deal with driving and dialled Slim's home phone number.

His father answered. I asked, "Um, hi, it's CM."

"I recognized the voice," Slim's father says warmly.

"Yeah," I smile. "Awesome. Um... is Slim there?"

"No, actually. He's out... I don't know where. He never really tells me much."

I'm disappointed. "Oh. Do you know when he's supposed to come home?"

"No idea. As I said, he's out until god-knows-when. I think it's because they have a closing-day at camp, so he might be there. And he might stay until late."

"Oh. Okay, well, then... um, if he ever gives a sign of life, could you tell him to call me? Or Drew or Ban or Kelsey, actually. We're going to see Tropic Thunder tonight and I think he wanted to come."

"Sure. I'll try to let him know."

"The movie's at 9:30, so anytime before that is cool, I guess."

"Alright, CM."

"Thank you, Mr. D.," I say, cheerfully. "You're great."

"No problem."

We hung up, and I gave up on Slim. He'd probably be too tired.

In fact, he didn't call that night, as far as I knew. My cell phone got no missed calls, and no one else got any news. I wasn't even sure that he was still alive. I ignored my disappointment and enjoyed everyone's company instead, for what it was worth. We filled a row in the theatre, and got a few good laughs from the movie.

Ban drove me home. I was in a somewhat depressed mood, and Ban, who was in the same mood because of his recent break-up, decided to notice, the ass.

"Just tell me," Ban said. "Every time my sisters had to unload, I was their man."

"I can't, Ban. You know the people involved."

"So? Think that changes anything?" He made a tisking noise, then said, "It's Slim, right?"

Why deny it? "Yeah."

"Did something happen?"

"Not really, when you think about it." I tell him about my frustration over Slim's attitude on Tuesday, and how I was unexpectedly hurt by his refusal to go to the movies with just me.

Ban interrupts me. "So do you feel bad about reacting so much?"

"Not really," I say. "I'm glad I reacted, actually, because otherwise that would have been just another thing to contend with internally."

"Right. But can I just ask for one thing set straight?"

"What?"

"What exactly do you want to be with him? Just friends?"

"Ban―"

"No, no, hear me out. Because if you want to be just friends with him, you need to tell him that straight up. And then he won't freak out. CM, he's a guy. We guys don't work well with subtlety. You need to tell him that straight up, he's just your friend and you don't mean anything more."

"... He knows that's―"

"CM. Did you TELL him?"

"Well, we kind of agreed multiple times, actually."

Ban pursed his lips, and turned onto our common street. "CM, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I think the reason you can't seem to be honest with Slim is that you are extremely confused."

I'm stunned. "I'm sorry?"

Ban stops in front of my house. "Confused. You don't seem to know what you want. So of course you're giving out extremely freaky signals."

I blink. That had never even occurred to me. That I could be confused. But he's right.

As much as I professed myself to be in love with Slim, the fact remained that I wasn't as heartbroken over his reaction as I was insulted. I've never connected with a guy as I connect with him, before. Being close to him is comforting, and being his friend is fun, but does that mean that I would get something better from being his girlfriend? I can still hug him, I can hang out with him on a regular basis, and there's no worry about being loved or accepted or rejected... Slim likes me as I am already.

Ban and I discussed this. Ban merely asked me, "CM. You just have to ask yourself one question: is it worth losing a permanent friend like Slim to gain a boyfriend like Slim, as temporary an advantage as that can be?"

The surprising answer was... "No. No, it isn't."

Because it isn't. I have so much to lose, and not much to gain. As conflicted as my heart was, the rest of me just knew it wasn't worth worrying about. He cares more about me than he did about his exes, and I love him dearly...

"I mean, you're closer to Slim than anyone ever expected you to become. It's a strong bond and something that not a lot of people can claim to have," Ban says. "And I don't think that you have a lot of friendships as meaningful."

Was it possible...? Was I in love with Slim just because I didn't have anything else? No, that wasn't quite it. I thought it over. "At the risk of sounding coarse," I said absently, "the only plus of being Slim's girlfriend would be the physical satisfaction. Everything spiritual is otherwise already there."

"Understatement," Ban smiles.

"I think I just feel safer with him, is all. If he were my first..." I shrug. "I don't know, I trust him more than anyone. I'd feel more comfortable if he were my first than if anyone else tried to fill in."

"That's normal," Ban says. "But in the long run, what's the best thing?"

"I know, I know." I wasn't happy, but somehow, Ban had helped me distance myself and take a critical look at my situation. If I were to do an internal vote, my confusion would be obvious:

Body: YES please he is pretty!
Head: NO, thanks, in the long run staying friends is wiser.
Heart: Um, those are valid points... Err...

And in the end, the mind wins, because the body is a fickle thing, and the mind is usually right. As for the heart, I'm not going to force things anymore. It was upset on Tuesday, and we'll see in time where it settles itself again.

After saying goodbye to Ban, and threatening him with murder if he EVER spoke to anyone about the talk we had, I went home.

(By the way, I did keep my promise to Slim throughout the talk. I never said, at any moment in the conversation, that I felt anything more than complete confusion regarding Slim, and that doesn't really qualify as admitting love in the least.)

Mom was still up. She asked about the movie, and I told her happily that it was good, and worth watching with friends.

It was only on Friday morning that I found out that Slim HAD called the night before.

"Yeah," Mom said, "I forgot to tell you. He called around nine and asked to talk to you." She paused to recollect a little absently. "He sounded really excited, too. But I told him you were already gone. He asked if you had the cell phone, and I said that you did, but you were likely already in the theatre, so that it was probably too late. He was really disappointed."

I feel bad for him, but then, he HAD known that there was a movie night planned either on Wednesday or Thursday.

Later Friday I logged onto MSN. He wasn't there until seven in the evening, at which point the following conversation occurred:

Me: I feel like going out tonight. Do you feel like going out?
Slim: No, I'm leaving early tomorrow morning for Dague's chalet.
Me: Bah. D: So how long are you going to be away? People mourned your absence yesterday.
Slim: Until jeudi prochain ('next Thursday').
Me: !!! Seriously??
Slim: Yeah.
Me: Oh. Wow, I guess.

A pause. I've given up on him. He hates me―

Slim: ZOMG I didn't tell you the amazing news! I called yesterday but you were out!
Me: What?
Slim: Pierre called me!

Pierre, if you recall, was our main college cinema teacher. He taught us about screenplays, filming and editing. He was also the most badass teacher we could ever get. PB, Gabie, Slim and I loved him. We always squeal his name when we talk about him, like "PIIIIIIIEEEERRE!!!"

Yeah, we're dorks.

Me: !!!!!
Slim: And he offered me a job at the college as assistant technician!!!!
Me: WHAAAAT
Me: OMG OMG OMG
Me: OH MY GOD

My excitement isn't feigned. I'm seriously in shock and AMAZINGLY PSYCHED!!!

Slim: YES!!!
Me: !!!!!!!
Slim: I would replace the mean dude.
Me: YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS
Slim: It's not sure yet, but I have a good chance.
Me: OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
Slim: I KNOW!!!!
Me: I am SO PSYCHED FOR YOU!
Slim: The guy said he wouldn't be able to do it this year like three weeks ago and they were looking for someone and René and Pierre ont tout de suite pensé à moi!!! ("René and Pierre immediately thought of me!!!")
Slim: I was so stunned!!!!!
Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: I'M SO FREAKING HAPPY FOR YOU!! 8D WOW!!!
Me: Still, it IS true you'd do a better job than the other guy did. YOU, at least, know the program and equipment from having actually worked with them.
Me: By the way, we tried calling you like, all evening yesterday. Where were you?
Slim: Camp closing. There was so much to do; I stayed until eight.
Slim: Speaking of which, Rick and Guy were supposed to be there to help, but they weren't.
Me: Ah, poop.
Slim: But who gives a fuck when I might work with PIERRE.
Me: Seriously.
Slim: It's crazy !!!
Me: I KNOW!!!!
Slim: Remember taking like a workshop with René on editing?
Slim: Well I'd be doing it now.
Me: Hahaha yeah!!!!
Me: Okay, seriously, where are the BIG FONTS when I need to shout? This is ridiculous.
Slim: ITS AMAZING I WANT THAT!!!
Me: BIG FONTS??
Slim: no, the job.
Me: Right. lol
Slim: But yeah, the BIG FONTS too!!!
Me: OKAY. WELL, I CAN GUESS WHY.
Slim: Btw, are you doing the film production thing?

He's talking about the email our cinema teacher Marie-Josée sent us last week, asking a few old students whether we'd like to come back to the college to explain to the second-year students what film production is like, in order to incite them to get organized and proactive. We'd enjoyed the same thing last year, and it's true having old students explain the strain and stress is more impressive than being told about it by teachers.

And okay, it's for those of us who like doing oral presentations about things we love, like we do.

Me: I want to... Wanna come with me?
Slim: Yeah! I can go only the 25th, though.
Me: Bah, I'm free all the time, so it's chill. Do you want me to reply for both of us?
Slim: Well, I'll tell MJ about the two of us for Monday at 9:30.
Me: Ok, if you want to do it, it's cool, too. :P
Slim: We'll meet the weekend before and we'll organize something so that it's not improvised.
Me: Sickass. Yes.
Me: DUDE. I can re-edit our making of into a clip of 1-2 minutes lol
Slim: If you can do it!!!
Me: Um, obviously. I have nothing better to do with my time anyway hahaha.
Me: Oh, btw, the 27th there are meetings at UQAM for the student IDs and all. So can you keep that day free?
Slim: Yeah, for sure.
Me: Okay now, I'm totally psyched for plenty of things. Great. I won't be able to sleep because of the happy high. Gah.
Slim: Gah!?
Me: Yes, gah is my expression of darn-now-I-can't-sleep-because-I'm-happy. But maybe you imagine that it's NOT EXPRESSIVE ENOUGH
Slim: I can sense the BRAWNDO tone.
Me: TOO ENERGETIC FOR NORMAL SPORTS!

And so it was that I forgave Slim, because, in Juno's words, he's the cheese to my macaroni.

And then, last night was Kitty's goodbye party. I already know that most of the people who were there are going to be there at Kels' party next weekend. It's the Summer End, a tradition to end the party season, and just about every single person I like is going to be there. It'll be awesome.

Anyway, I have a wonderful school year coming up, what with university and all. So, alright, I confess, things are good. Not great, but definitely good.

Love,
CM

Dizzy!

It seems the best way to get positive male results is to show them what they're missing.

This is usually the part where Lyx breaks in and shouts, in a manner that causes untold anguish to yours truly, "YOU FLASHED SLIM YOUR BOOBS?"

Usually followed by a statement along the lines of, "No. I did not flash him my boobs." And then I proceed to retell what was up.

I'm not the punitive type, in general. I don't like making people feel bad, and I have a lot of trouble holding a grudge against people I like. Nevermind people I am hopelessly in love with (no matter how much I wish I could switch that particular feature off).

So when Slim snubbed me last Sunday, I had to make a hard decision.

"SNUBBED YOU?" You'll echo, in tormented indignation.

Yes, quite. In a manner that lacked a proper excuse. He's quite healed, and after that night at Moe's had suggested we prolong our conversation.

And I quote: "We might need to finish that convo sometime."

Which, in any other vernacular but ours, would mean he wants me alone to discuss things we both hold close to ours hearts. Read: he likes me.

So, in our following IM conversation, I agree. "We should." And waited for him to continue.

Sadly, he did not think this an urgent conversation to pursue or finish, although he insisted that it was something we would have to discuss face to face.

"And not by MSN, I mean," he specified, in a manner that made it clear he wanted to see me. Physically. Tangibly (I hope).

He also mentioned I should see the movie he'd done with the kids at camp, because it was, in his own words, "Just so great!"

It therefore seemed perfectly rational for me to suggest, "Well, seeing as your sister probably has the car, I could drop by your place a couple of hours. I've got stuff planned for later, but it could be nice."

And, here is the part that pissed me off: he never replied to that. I sat there, waiting for a reply (at least a turndown, for heaven's sake!) and he just never said another word.

I didn't prompt him for more. I figured if he was a decent enough guy, he'd reply eventually. And I know he's a decent type.

But I walked away, and when I came back, he'd signed out.

Needless to say I was pissed, insulted, hurt, and rather annoyed. By what right does he behave like this, anyway?

So I decided I'd punish him in my own passive way.

I'm not an idiot. Over the past year, Slim has grown to depend on my talking and listening; he likes having someone to exchange with (and it certainly helps that I often know what he's thinking with just a glance, as far as ease of communication goes), and he especially likes having someone reliable nearby that he can turn to.

As unexpected as this would have been two years back, this is now the crux of our friendship. I'm there for him, and he's there for me (most of the time).

He was either completely oblivious (likely) or just plain cruel (at the time, this also seemed likely) to not even bother with answering a direct inquiry about spending time with me. He just didn't say a word; he just sat there and didn't even make up some random excuse about having to visit his grandma. Of course, I'd have known he was lying, but I could have at least interpreted it as a turndown, and made my peace with it.

But he didn't. He made me wait. He forced me to check back many times (for no reason), and then, as I was getting ready to give him an earful, he just logged out.

Excuse me, Slim. Clearly we haven't set the boundaries for what is appropriate and what I will not tolerate.

So I punished him by using my only leverage against him (aside from his many secrets, which I will never be enough of a vengeful bitch to reveal). I stopped addressing him.

He might play it cool and seldom start conversations with people, but I know he craves the exchange. He just doesn't want to bother.

So I stopped opening conversations with him. Clearly, my reasoning explained, he would realise how hurtful it was to be left alone to wonder. I had decided that I would only forgive him if he broke down and addressed me first, and hopefully in friendly tones.

It was simple forgiveness; you'd think he'd understand.

But he didn't make a single move. He was there, blatantly inviting me to talk to him by leaving his status as 'online' rather than 'busy' or 'away'. He craved the conversation, I could tell.

But he didn't deign speak to me first. I was pissed off.

And I'll admit that the number of times during the past week of silence where I would live, see or hear something hilarious or interesting that I promised myself I'd tell him before remembering I was angry with him was a high toll. I didn't realise how addicted I'd become to him. This unnerved me even more.

So, in an effort to change my spirits, and in an effort to show him just what he was missing, I accepted all kinds of invitations to go out. Tuesday, Drew suggested I go to the movies to see The Dark Knight (go see it!!!!!!!!!) with he, Ban, and Kels; we swam in Drew's backyard pool before going. It was a nice night, quiet, and it kept my mind off Slim for at least six hours.

The next night, Drew invited me again (Drew asked me out, actually; he's trying to score on just about any girl he can) to hang out with him, Mitch, Ban, Kels, Fred, and Gabe (that cute blonde guy I mention at the end of this entry) at a local bar. It was a new opportunity to go out and prove to myself (and Slim, who knows, as everyone in the gang does, where the parties are) that I was independant and self-reliant. It was great, too. Gabe, whom I'd always thought was an idiot for being friends with that pretentious Tony guy, good looks aside.

Only it turns out he was sorry for the way Tony used to treat me during our joint Philosophy classes, and that he'd noticed, apparently, my spirit. Turns out few people have the nerve of replying with intelligence to Tony, on account of the guy's culture but intense opinions. Anyhow, Gabe was playful and teasing with me all evening, easily inciting laughter from me.

"Guess his age!" Kels suddenly suggested, and Gabe looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"Um... Twenty?"

"Twenty-three, actually," Gabe had said, looking sheepish.

"No way!" He looks way younger. "No way!"

"I have a professional studies diploma and a DEC."

I was stunned, but it didn't throw a pall in the least on our moods. Instead, we now shared a sort of common understanding; I noticed that we easily understood each other with glances, in regard to Ban or Fred's behaviours. He has a quirky, corner-of-the-lips smile, unlike Slim's cheerful grin, and a build that makes him look like a sex god.

And Eva did mention he was rumoured to be well-equipped, not that this idea surfaced in my mind at the time. Much.

So, as you can see, I was proving to be completely independant of Slim, and perfectly healthy without his presence. Not that I didn't wish a few times he was there, sure. It's all part of the seperation process. But I was doing really great without him.

You can't blame me, though, for nearly melting on the spot with happiness when Amy told me tonight that he had shown up for PB's birthday.

PB, being a special, charismatic guy, decided that he'd have two birthday parties. The first one would be at Annie's, and the second one would be at Moe's. He wanted people to show up to at least one of the parties, and figured it could be awkward if those who worked on Friday morning showed up with circles under their eyes.

Obviously, he didn't include himself. But all daycamp workers were expected to show up on Friday night, not last night. This included Rick, Slim, Michelle, and so on.

I knew not to expect him, and was even proud of myself for going without the incentive of his presence.

I had a poster (made by yours truly) to give to PB for his birthday. I knew he would love it. I'd put days of work into it, and made another copy for Michelle, whose birthday is on Saturday (yeah, that's a lot of parties in one week, I'll hand it to you).

Basically, the poster is a gathering of portraits. All of the people from the gang. Total, there were twenty familiar faces on that poster, and it was gorgeously printed. AA, Amy, Anthony, Ban, Dague, Drew, Gabriel, Guy, Isa, Iva, Kels, Liz, Maria, Melanie, Michelle, Mitch, PB, Rick, Slim and I. It had been days of work, hours of outlining, many more of colouring, and it was spectacular, if I do say so myself. Not to mention I prided myself on how much every individual portrait looked so much like their inspiration.

I had to find PB and show him. I knew he'd appreciate it.

But the first familiar person I saw (aside from Liz and Michelle, who had driven me over) was Amy. And she was so excited to see me, she interrupted two guys who were both trying to pick her up.

"OHMYGOD CM!"

"Amy, are you drunk this time?"

"Oh, no, hell no! I learned my lesson! I'll only get drunk tomorrow night at Moe's."

I rolled my eyes.

"OHMYGOD CM! GUESS WHAT?"

"What?" I ask, highly amused.

"SLIM SHAVED!"

My face must have changed completely from the shock. I was so stunned, I frowned. "What? Slim? Slim D.? He's here?"

"Yeah! He shaved!!! But don't worry, don't make that face―" I tried hard to keep my composure and not show how much my heartbeat sped up at the idea that he was nearby and where was he? Was he going to snub me some more or was he― "I swear, he looks way younger now! He's adorable and all handsome!"

Point: he is handsome all the time.

Fact: I am melting inside and trying to conceal it.

"Really? Well, you'd have loved him in elementary school," I say, emptily but pretending I'm amused. "He looked like a little elf back then."

"Oh my god!" I hardly hear Amy's reply because I turned to look for Sl― PB. I'm looking for PB. Everything else is secondary and― oh my god, Slim is wearing the same polo as the one I dreamed about last night. I know his wardrobe by heart now, so his actual clothes make appearances in my dreams.

Okay, so sue me. I dream of him. Be glad he was fully dressed in that one (sadly... for once).

I avert my eyes and pretend I don't know he's there. I will not forgive him that snubbing just because― he really does look cuter when he's shaved. And much younger. Oh god, why does looking at him hurt me in such a wonderful way?

"Josie!" I call instead, and notice Kitty is there too. Instantly, I focus on my friends; Anthony, Drew, Fred, Iva. "Where's PB?"

And as I say it, I notice PB. So I walk straight to him. What was the point of looking in Slim's direction anymore? He was chatting with a gorgeous girl with long, straight black hair, and looking very much into it. And that ache in my gut is due to hunger, not jealousy.

Goddammit, I need to stop glancing his way! I have more pride than this!!!

"CM!" PB's already drinking. He's been there a full hour. He kisses me on both cheeks as I call a cheerful "Happy Birthday!!! I have something for you!"

He pulls back and stares at me in cheerful anticipation. "Oh no."

"What, 'oh no'?"

"Oh no, you've made something spectacular that I don't deserve, right?"

"Probably." I pull out the poster. It's a long band of faces, and I am so proud of it. As it slowly unfolds, PB reaches out reverently and his voice is a rising repetition of, "Oh my god. Oh my god. You did not... Oh. My. God."

At last, the whole thing is extended, and every single guy is poring over it eagerly, with their jaws hanging.

I must say, I was so damn proud. The compliments I received ranged from the, "OH MY GOD YOU ARE CRAZY!" to the more gentle, "I cannot believe how much everyone looks like themselves! Wow!"

PB was touched. Very much so. He pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek. "CM, I think I'm gonna cry. Thank you so much. I'll definitely hang this over my dorm bed in Québec city. I'll look at it every day and think of you guys."

The poster attracted a lot of attention, with the guys motioning grandly and excitedly about it, showing it around and generally arguing about whose portrait was the handsomest.

"CM, you are crazy and so freaking talented," Michelle exclaimed, making me turn away to look back at her. I was grinning from ear to ear, and was still fighting the urge to look in Slim's direction. My last glance had revealed he wasn't talking to the black-haired girl anymore, but rather to a blonde chick. I wasn't going to look again, for fear of what I'd see.

I started to explain that she'd get a variant of the same poster for her birthday, to her excitement, when a hand suddenly clamped on my shoulder and I was turned around with sudden force.

Only to stare right up into Slim's broadly grinning face.

And the first thing he said to me was, "YOU. ARE. CRAZY." Followed by a shake of the head and an awed laugh. I stared up at him, trying hard not to jump-hug him. Seeing my hesitation, he started rambling, his grin never leaving his handsome hairless face, "I mean, I saw you arrive, and then you showed PB something and then I could totally tell that it made all the guys absolutely crazy and they kept motioning and huddling around whatever it was that you brought. Curiosity killed me. I mean, I've been trying to get to you from the moment I spotted you but every time I make a step, somebody new stops me, and so it took me an eternity to get to you, so now that I'm here and that I've seen what you've done and the amazing work― I mean... Wow."

Wow. Wow is most certainly the word.

Can you forgive me if I smiled, then, and said, "Good evening to you too"?

He broke into a beautiful smile. "Good evening."

And I kissed his cheek. He kissed mine. He smelled wonderful.

"I didn't think you'd be here," I said.

He shrugs. "I didn't think I would be, but whatever. By the way, your poster is now inaccurate because my picture is bearded and I'm now shaved."

I hit him. "Jerk! You mess everything up!"

But we were both laughing. It was so natural and while he was there, my stomach didn't hurt.

Although I would still show him what it was like to be left wanting. And I need him to get around noticing how precious I am to him.

So I chatted with him, then focused my attention on Iva, and Fred, and Drew, and Anthony, and Josie... equally. He hovered nearby, clearly aching to keep talking, but I made him feel what it was like to contend with other people when the one person you want to talk to is being inaccessible.

And it's not like I minded, really. But if I was going to have fun, I'd show him what he was missing.

And he got his lesson, if his constant looks in my direction ―even as he spoke with Rick and Michelle― were any indication. Every time I laughed, or motioned, or exclaimed, I saw him tense at the corner of my eye, and he would look at me over Rick's head. He wasn't even being subtle.

This, more than his cheerful interjections when we were reunited, was what put me into such a good mood. When Iva asked him to hold her coat, he took it, but didn't even break off in his sentence to me.

Hello, this is Iva-the-Gorgeous we're talking about. The girl he used to fantasize over. And he would smile at me instead. Me!

I could hardly keep my distances. He was like a magnet; being physically away from him caused me to ache for his warmth. Being near him gave me license to touch his arm, his shoulder, his back, all fleetingly and lightly, but only to reassure myself that I was, in fact, being teased and entertained by the man I am in love with.

"Let's go back out on the terrace," Slim told me once we'd strayed inside onto a packed dance floor. "It's too hot in here."

And too loud. I put my hand on his arm and made him lead the way. I could tell he was going to look back frequently to make sure I was still keeping up, and rather than let him worry, I put my hand to his spine, and felt the warmth of his skin burn me through his polo.

He did turn around, but only to throw me a warm smile that made me practically melt.

"Slim!" Anthony called. He wasn't drinking much, but he assured us he would, tomorrow night. "It'll be great!"

"Whoa!" Slim exclaimed before I could say anything, "Anthony, I should probably warn you; from now on, CM and I are officially out of the nursing business. You get yourself sick, we go into hiding."

"But CM likes tending to me!" Anthony jokes, and I lean forward to ruffle his hair.

And forget that my jeans ride low.

I stand straight again and try to subtly readjust my waist to properly cover the lace underwear I'm wearing.

Seriously; it's like every time I wear attractive lingerie, Slim turns up. It's mysterious (but practical, when you think about it).

I don't miss Slim's not-so-smiling-anymore look. So rather than focus on him, I chat with Anthony, because do I really want him to think of me as the sex-craved lingerie-wearing type?

Well, yes, but―

"Slim!" Fred calls, "Rick says he wants to leave!"

I turn to Slim. "... Oh, you're Rick's lift?"

"Yeah," he looks a little annoyed and disappointed. "But he's got a point; we still have work with the kids tomorrow morning. And I have a final doctor's appointement. So... I should go."

I lean forward and kiss his shaved cheek. Into my ear, he says, "We'll discuss my obtaining a poster too, okay?"

"We'll talk it out," I laugh. "Among other things." The reminder is purely informative. I gave up on punishment. I'm just not cruel enough, and he's just too irresistible.

"Right. Although right now the only thing I can think about is paintball!" He's excitedly referring to our going out for paintball next week.

"I've never done any," I say, worriedly. "So I've decided that I'd follow your lead blindly, no matter what you ask of me." I can't help but laugh. I know that Slim is known as an excellent strategist for paintball.

"You've got it right," he says, proudly. "But don't worry. You'll stay with me all the way through. My way is the painless way." I might have imagined it, but I'm sure he adopted a protective look for a second.

"Alright." I raise my eyes upwards; the stars are out. Stars mean so much to me now. "We'll take a walk and talk."

"Tomorrow," he assures me, businesslike. Rick calls after him. He sighs, then softly says, "Alright... Good night."

I didn't mope, though, once he was gone. I hung out with Michelle, Liz, PB, Drew, Fred, Amy, and so on. We all went to a 24/7 deli near my house afterwards; had midnight meals. It was great, and we took many group pictures.

We laughed, joked, and I kept thinking about Slim, and how much I want him nearby all the time.

It is either pathetic, or just understandable. I don't even care. I can't believe how his mere presence makes every grudge melt into nothing, how his smile makes me warm and happy, how his proximity makes all physical discomfort go away, and I wonder what it would be like to taste the smell of his skin, to test the softness of his lips again.

I can only hope he's losing his mind over me. Maybe then we'll get somewhere, from the sheer desperation.

Love,
CM

Let's get nekkid!

We were providing a lift for Slim and PB last night so we could go to Moe's together. Living so far from that particular hang-out can be rough on our gas tanks, so we usually carpool when we can. Mom, being the angel that she is, agreed to fetch them and bring them back.

That's right. At 3 in the morning.

I seriously love my Mom.

Lyx: BEN BARNES
Me: Yeah, I may or may not discuss Ben Barnes with my mother in excruciating detail while Slim is in the car. That should be hilarious enough.
Lyx: Do it. Please do it.
Me: I will, I will. I may also mention a few of your guy friends from Tejas. Tell them I mean nothing by it.
Lyx: Of course. And you could also mention Schlitterbahn and seeing hordes of shirtless, well-muscled Southern men.
Lyx: Even though there weren't that many at all.
Lyx: And by many, I mean any.
Me: I don't know, that COPY OF MOHINDER, MAYBE?
Lyx: And I saw this ridiculously pretty guy floating by on a tube when we were in line for the sled thingy.
Me: And hahahaha I can totally say I got 4th of July dancing with a Latino. I don't have to mention he was like, 35.
Lyx: He sings very well and tours the country...!
Me: !!! That is true.
Lyx: You've got plenty of ammo.
Me: Huh, yeah. He won't stand a chance.
Me: Ooooh imagine this: a threesome with Jim Sturgess and Ben Barnes. I'd overload and faint. It's like, too much sexiness in one picture.
Lyx: Pretty much. I'm not sure they're allowed near each other. Because of the pretty thing.
Me: Yeah. I mean, the pheromones would kind of overwhelm nearby females. ... WHY ARE BRITS SO HANDSOME ANYWAY? How do they manage this? What's up with the UK gene pool??
Lyx: I don't know but I wish I did! That's why I want to go to England. Find me a nice, rich, pretty man.
Me: With the accent... *swooooon*

Yeah, we tend to get carried away. Where was I? Oh, right.

Me: Oh, poor Slim.
Me: He got a close encounter with a frustrating phone answering machine. Poor soul.
Me: He just said, and I quote, "Life was so much easier when I was a pirate."
Me: SEE WHY I LOVE HIM? SEE??
Lyx: I see. You should make a move on that.
Me: I know. I should.
Me: What the... Slim just said "I decided I'd learn the Thriller dance and show it to the kids for their education."
Lyx: Video recordings.
Me: I'll see.

Slim: ITS HARD! (He's practicing Thriller, atm) Imagine me, in boxers and socks, practicing Thriller ... I just came out the shower btw.
Me: XD You know we've gotten to be too good friends when I can, in fact, imagine you in boxers and socks dancing to Thriller.
Me: To anyone else it may seem outlandish. But not to me.
Me: This is disturbing.
Slim: LOL LOL LOL!! :P

Me: By the way, he so wants me.
Me: Why else would he have mentioned that he just came out of the shower? It served no real purpose in that conversation.
Lyx: He does want you. You should make your move tonight.
Me: I should. He's like, "Fuck, girl, it's the feet. THE FEET." About the dance, I mean. He's never called me 'girl' before. *waggle brows*
Lyx: Do the subtle flirting thing. Brush up against him. PLEASE
Lyx: If you two don't get together, I'll never speak to you again.
Me: Wait, do we have to do this tonight?? That's a cruel deadline!
Lyx: At least try!
Me: ALRIGHT, FINE, BUT ANTHONY WILL NEVER LET ME HEAR THE END OF IT.
Lyx: What do you mean?
Me: Anthony has got it in his head that Slim and I should date. Which we should. Except he's also the kind of guy who will tease you about it. Forever.
Lyx: Oh.

Me: You know, I have really hilarious images in my head right now. Are you wearing those boxers with the adjectives on them? Those boxers are magic. If they can't get the dance into you, I don't know what will.
Slim: loool No. Other boxers.
Slim: I hope I'll be able to show you some tonight LOOLL :P
Me: What, the dance or the boxers?

Me: I am brilliant.
Lyx: Sizzle. The sexual tension is so thick it can practically be cut with a knife!
Me: Maybe. But this is unknown territory for me. I'm doing my best, see?
Me: Actually, I should probably be going soon. To get ready. TTYL.
Lyx: Of course. See you. Let me know how it goes.

The funny thing is?

I saw both. The dance and the boxers.

And this is how.

So we arrived around 11:00 at Moe's with the firm intention of having fun. PB was determined to drink with Anthony, Anthony was determined to drink with Slim, and Slim was trying to fight the onslaught of people who desperately wanted to get drunk.

I saw AA, Iva, Gabriel, Josie, Kitty, and was following AA to get shots when someone suddenly grabbed my arm. I turned, and saw Amy, with whom I'd worked on a few projects in school over the past two years. I wouldn't say we're extremely close, but we get along pretty well; we've got the same sense of humour and she's the only girl I actually tend to screech with. She's got a set of lungs that incites one to scream along. Because we're both extravagant together. Must be because we share the same first name.

Amy's a hilarious girl, with a loose tongue and a quick-to-laugh attitude. It's refreshing.

So of course, when I saw her, I squealed uselessly loud. It's what we do. We parted ways immediately afterwards. As I said, we're not best friends or anything. We're just loud acquaintances who happened to work together on a few occasions.

I rejoined AA.

I didn't expect to drink as much as I did, but I ended up tipsy within an hour and a half. Don't ask me what I drank. I would drink from various pitchers around Anthony's table with a straw. Beer, cocktails, mixes... I only know what I ingested more alcohol than I'd predicted. But it was alright.

Slim stayed by my side most of the evening. We shared a table with Anthony, and Slim would watch me drink wordlessly, drinking from his own glass amusedly. We were relatively quiet until Amy and her sister joined us.

Amy, we found out, had just been dumped, and was therefore extremely drunk, to our immense amusement. Slim and I, suddenly infused with new purpose, set about trying to cheer her up. Slim would joke with her, offering her to exchange shoes with him (Slim trying to put on tiny heeled shoes was kind of hilarious), and I'd make suggestions on how to improve her spirits.

"Tomorrow," I said, leaning over the table towards Amy ―by then I was severely tipsy and in a wonderful mood― "When you are severely hung over," Amy, her sister, Anthony, PB and Slim were avidly (and, in some cases, laughingly) listening, "you need to plop down on your couch, and watch a movie with ridiculously hot actors while eating ice cream."

"I WILL!" Amy exclaimed, her arms flying up drunkenly.

"And the best ice cream," I said, which earned me the full agreement of female onlookers, "is cookie-dough ice cream."

"OH MY GOD," Amy exclaimed, as her sister nodded with wide eyes, "THAT IS SOO TRUE."

Anthony and PB just laughed.

"You have such... girly solutions," Slim remarked, chuckling.

"THEY WORK," Amy and I said, and he recoiled, exaggerating fear.

"The best movie for break-ups is something with Ben Barnes in it," I said, cheerfully. "That man is ridiculously attractive."

"Who is he?" Melanie asked.

"He plays Prince Caspian in the Chronicles of Narnia."

"You did not just say that," Anthony groaned.

"Hey," Melanie said, in self-righteous indignation, "Narnia is AWESOME."

I strongly suspect she was also very tipsy.

"The BEST movie for break-ups is BACK TO THE FUTURE," Slim said, which earned him glares from the girls, and a small slap from me. He frowned at me, and slapped back, but very weakly. Probably because he didn't want to hurt me. He was laughing. I slapped back, a little harder, and he flicked a hand against me again, with a determined look on his face.

We paused, and I suddenly said, "Why isn't there a glass in your hand?"

He clearly held on to a smirk, and picked up his glass of beer. I waited, but he only looked at me expectantly.

"Why aren't you drinking?" I prompted.

He drank. Eventually, with enough prompting from Amy, Slim and I were very tipsy. He must have had four beers or so, and I lost track.

"After this one," he said, cheerfully, indicating his half-empty glass, "I will most definitely show you the Thriller dance."

"You need to be definitely more drunk. And so do I. It'll be better that way."

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I wanna see it too," Amy said, wavering on her chair.

"Of course," Slim said, as PB poured him another glass of beer. "Hey, I didn't want to drink that much tonight."

PB shot him a tipsy glare. "Just drink it, weakling."

Around 12:30AM, therefore, Slim, Amy, AA and I stumbled out of Moe's and into the parking lot, laughing hysterically, and into a back street that was distinctly obscure and deserted. Moe's is removed from the city, so we knew there was no problem there. Thugs don't hide in the vicinity.

"So I have to learn the Thriller dance for camp, but I only know the first few seconds―" Slim said, and as he moved forward I realised he'd been holding my hand. I only noticed because he let go of it then, to move before his audience. Confused, I looked down at my hands, and noticed that AA was holding my other hand. I belatedly remembered she'd grasped it, afraid of getting lost in the throng as we walked out of Moe's. Amy, whooping drunkenly, swayed on her feet, holding on to AA's other hand.

Slim started dancing. Even drunk, he was really good. Between tears of laughter and hoots of encouragement, as AA and Amy swayed all over the place, I managed to watch all of Slim's performance. He ended, cheerfully swaying, and AA, Amy and I congratulated him on his progress.

"Oh god, I love you guys," AA slurred, affection overflowing in her tone. "Let's get more to drink!"

"Yeah, let's get more to driiiiink! TO SINGLEDOM!" Amy shouted, stumbling after AA. Slim and I followed them back towards Moe's.

"That dance was way hot, Slim," AA jokes over her shoulder.

"I AM hot," Slim laughs.

"I like your hair," Amy says.

"Yeah, your hair is awesome," I say in confirmation.

"I know," Slim snickers.

"I love your hair, and I love you guys, and I love everyone in the world," Amy said, loudly. "I wanna roll all over the world."

"You know what's great about being tipsy?" Slim said, leaning towards me. "When you're drunk you're actually game to do really dumb things just because you feel like them."

"I know!" I exclaim. "It's great!"

"Let's go roll on the paving."

"Whaaaat?" Amy and AA turned, incredulous, at Slim and I as we both agreed that rolling on pavement was really the best and most amazingly logical idea we've had all night.

"You can go alone. I'm cold," AA said, and she dragged Amy away.

But I could not be deterred. I turned on my heel and stumbled back to the back street, surprised to see that Slim actually trailed after me. He caught up in long strides, and we strode determinedly towards the end of the cul-de-sac, and further beyond cement blocks. There was a parking lot here, adjoining a large municipal park that was plunged in deep obscurity. I could only guess the outline of trees against the starlit sky, far in the distance.

Moe's, after all, is in a residential, countryside area. There are a lot of trees and forests nearby.

"Actually, the truth is," I said, lightly, "that you're only coming along in this dark back alley because you want to rape me."

"Yeah. I want to rape you," Slim replied in a laughing sarcastic tone, "and then I'm going to ask you for a lift home."

The absurdity was so beautiful, we laughed like children, stumbling along in the dark.

I wanted to run. I ran. Slim was laughing. I twirled in circles just because I felt like it. I looked up at the stars. It'd been ages since I'd last seen that many stars. They were so bright. I let myself fall back on the pavement of the parking lot, laughing breathlessly.

"Oh my god," I breathed, oddly moved, "it's so, so beautiful..."

"What, the stars?"

"Yeah." I looked up at Slim as he towered above me. "Lie down. We came all this way so we'd roll on pavement, so do it."

"I already did," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement again. "See?" He paused, didn't budge, and said, "I did it again. Just now."

"Liar," I mumbled, struggling to sit up. I stumbled to my feet, and belatedly noticed a sign. 'No loitering'. "Oh, shit! We're breaking the law!"

Slim looked away from me and glanced casually at the sign. "No, see, it's on the other side of the fence. We're not IN the park. We're outside. We're okay."

I paused, then started giggling, feeling silly. I was breathless with elatement I couldn't explain, and just wanted to run in circles.

I turned as I heard Slim exhale, and he turned on his heel and ran off at a wild sprint, jumping high. He kicked his feet in the air, and he reached up incredibly high to grab branches of a nearby park tree, laughing out loud, arms and legs flailing. He did it again and again, reaching for the low brances and grabbing at the leaves. I sprinted over, jumped, grabbed at the leaves, felt water droplets hit my face, and giggled like a little girl.

We fought, threw leaves at each other, and when we were finally out of breath, Slim said, "We... should go back. They must be wondering where we are."

"Yeah, they probably are." I stumbled, and he grabbed my shoulder to steady me. I laughed, broke away, and we walked briskly back to the bar, laughing and shoving. We'd occasionally break into a jog, then feign a change in direction to confuse the other, and still keep on laughing.

We reached Moe's again, and returned to the bar area, where Amy, Anthony and PB were still drinking.

"You know," Slim said as we returned to our previous chairs, side by side, "I keep thinking about that sign. Is it just me, or is it that every time you see a sign like that, 'no loitering', you feel this really compelling urge to just run straight to the middle of the field and scream?"

"Like when someone tells you not to press the button and from then on you're just dying to do exactly that? I know!"

We giggled like kids. Amy joined in, possibly even more drunk than she was before and therefore extremely cheerful.

"Slim―" I start, drinking from Amy's Sex on the Beach pitcher.

"―I know, we'll go as soon as I finish my beer."

"Go where?" Amy asked.

"To the park!" Slim called.

"To break the law!" I exclaimed.

"I wanna go with you!" Amy giggled loudly.

And so, fifteen minutes later, the three of us stumbled out of Moe's again. Amy had reached for my hand because she was afraid of stumbling on the stairs, and Slim had reached for my other hand to 'be part of the chain'. We were running and skipping like morons, and laughing all along.

We returned to the parking lot, and stumbled past the chain-link fence into the park. I twirled forward until I was dizzy, and Amy simply sprinted far ahead, past the maintenance chalet and towards the play-area.

"We're breaking the law," Slim observed, his severe tone contradicted by the childish glee on his face.

"I know! It's so, so wonderful," I said, and ran after Amy in the dark, stumbling because I couldn't see where I was going.

Slim jogged after us, laughing. Amy had reached the kiddy-structures, and was swinging from the monkey bars, laughing and whooping. As we reached her, Slim said, "I could so get naked and run bare-ass in the dark."

I laughed, "We should!"

"Look!" Amy exclaimed, breaking the amusement into which Slim and I were sinking, "a huge web thingy! I love those!"

The three of us ran towards the big cord structure, and clambered into it, reaching the top and sitting there, laughing.

"Oh my god," Amy said, "I never thought I'd do this with you guys one day!"

Slim and I chuckled.

"Let's get naked," Slim joked. "That'll be really unusual."

Amy and I exchanged glances, and I finally said, "Well, I'm good to strip, yeah."

Amy burst into a sharp bark of laughter. "Ooooh, you vixen!" She teased.

"Well, I'm doing it. You with me?"

There was a pregnant pause, and suddenly Amy and I hastened to disentangle ourselves from the web, laughing giddily, dropping to the ground and breaking into a run.

"But we'll lose our clothes!" Amy suddenly exclaimed.

"Well, then, let's find a place to leave them," I said. "Look! There's a table there."

"Okay!"

"Wait, are you kidding?" Slim said, jogging after us, his tone ―I couldn't see his face really well in the dark― a hilarious mix of hope and disbelief. "You're really doing this?"

"Well, maybe not the pants, it's a cool night. But I'm losing the top," I said.

"We're keeping our bras, right?" Amy asked, already mimicking my motions as I reached for my shirt's hem.

"Okay," and in one swift motion, I removed my shirt.

And since you're curious, Lyx, I was wearing that red lace bra you saw the other time. So it turns out Slim saw it, in the end. Who'd have thought your joke would actually get real?

"You've got to be kidding me," Slim said, laughing like a man whose luck just switched to 'Ultimate' mode. Amy and I were laughing hysterically, jumping like morons.

We then turned on him. I commanded, "You. There. Lose the shirt."

"If you insist," he said, still mildly shocked and pleased.

I hardly waited to see if he was obeying me. Amy and I had broken into a shirtless sprint across the baseball field, running through the wet, cool, soft grass, giggling breathlessly.

"This is too funny!" Amy kept repeating. "I never thought I'd do something like this with you guys!"

We twirled in the soft grass, and eventually threw ourselves down on it. It was very wet, but it felt like bliss on our skin. We rolled around, then moved onto our backs to stare at the sky. Here, the stars were even more beautiful. We agreed it was one of the most beautiful things we'd ever seen.

I rolled onto my stomach, and looked for Slim. Now and then, we'd burst into wild giggles as we hoped no one would happen on us shirtless.

"If he's hiding our shirts," I joke, "I am killing him."

"He wouldn't do that, would he?" Amy said, eyes wide, whispering along with me.

"No, I don't think he would."

"This sky..." Amy whispers. "It's soooo pretty."

"There he is," I say. "He's coming along."

"Did he lose the shirt?"

"Yup."

"I cannot believe I'd ever do this with you guys."

As Slim approached us ―he had trouble locating us in the near pitch darkness― I said, "Slim, lose the pants."

"Why?"

"Because your chest is nothing we haven't seen before."

He laughed, and unzipped his jeans, dropping them around his ankles, kicking them off, stumbling forward and towering over us.

"Isn't that grass wet?"

"Yes," I say, "And it feels amazing. Lie down."

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I perceived a grin on his lips.

He dropped down, exclaiming with the initial surprise of wet grass hitting his back. He then propped himself up and looked at Amy and I, lying on the grass in our jeans and bras as we waxed philosophical about the stars.

"So am I allowed to unclasp your bra?" He asked me.

"What, with your magic hands?" I teased.

"They are magic, I promise." He waggled his fingers, as he had all evening. He and I keep joking that his hands and fingers are extremely talented, but we always leave up in the air just at what they're good.

"Only if you get Amy's first. I'm not always going to lead the indecency movement, you know."

He clucked his tongue in faked disappointment, turned to Amy, and asked, "Will you let me untie your bra?"

She laughed drunkenly. "Noooo, that's going too far."

Slim shook his head, only slightly feigning his disappointment. "You girls need to get wilder."

"Shut up, Slim," I mumbled. "No guy's seen this bra before."

"Do your panties and bra match?" Amy asked me, in a perfectly innocent conversational tone.

"They did yesterday, but today they don't."

"Oh. Well, all my panties and bras are pink, so they always match." Amy giggled, sillily.

"I don't have pink," I say, forgetting for a moment that Slim is there, listening on avidly and amusedly. "I have, uhh... beige, and red..."

"Red?" Amy hoots, "Why, you vixen!"

"Hot," Slim mildly comments, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Ooh, and I also have this totally hot black bra, all lacy―" I sit up to show Amy where the lace would be, in a totally non-sexual and purely fashion-addict-girl sort of way, and notice that Slim, who had reclined, also propped himself up to look with undisguised interest, "―and it is just plain amazing. But it's getting a little old. I don't wear it that much anymore."

"We should go buy bras," Amy acquiesces.

"We should definitely do that," I agree.

"You should lose the pants, is what you should do," Slim comments.

"Shut up. You're not allowed to make requests," I tease.

"Hey, I have a dick. You can't expect me to ignore it all the time."

"Is it long like you?" I joke.

"Obviously."

"You guys are crazy!!!" Amy exclaims, giggling drunkenly. "I can't believe I'm here, doing this!"

"Actually," I say, "I'll always remember―" I lean over Amy to look at Slim, who has fallen back in the grass, "―that time at the dinner table with your parents when you looked at me straight in the eye and commented, in front of your parents, that you were long and hard."

"You did not say that!" Amy exclaims, laughing.

"It was a beautiful moment," Slim laughs out loud.

"What went through your head??"

"Nothing, clearly."

"The blood was elsewhere?" Amy jokes.

Slim and I laugh good-naturedly, and we lapse into silence. I fall back into the wet grass, and we admire the stars.

"How come," Slim asks to the night air, "is it that the stars are always more beautiful when you're lying on your back in the grass?"

"I don't know," Amy sighs.

"When you think about it," I say, "these stars are so far away that the light we receive now was emitted a billion years ago. These very stars might not even exist anymore."

"Everything is so huge," Slim agrees thoughtfully.

"And we're so small," I say. "We're just on this tiny block of rock in the midst of it all."

"With our shirts off, and drunk out of our minds," Amy finishes.

We burst out laughing madly, our chests heaving and our stomachs hurting. I sit up and stretch my neck, arms and shoulders, realizing belatedly that I'm in just a bra and that Slim is watching me unabashedly. I try to change the subject. I remember something about my pair of jeans. "I have a hole in my jeans." I try to show them. It's not in the crotch area; it's the inside of the seat that was used to the thread, on my inner thigh.

"Interesting," Slim says, in a deep voice. I laugh.

"That's random. Where is it?" Amy inquires.

"Some place in the crotch area?" Slim says, in a faked hopeful tone.

"No. Inner thigh. Like, I'm touching my thigh right now." My finger reached between the threads.

I know. I'm stupid. But I didn't realise. I was drunk.

"Sexy," Amy jokes.

"You shouldn't be touching your own thigh right now," Slim says, shaking his head, like there are better options. I don't miss the obviously sexual undertone.

"Yeah, I think Slim wants you to touch his thigh," Amy laughs.

Slim forces a breathless, aroused tone, and says, in a deep voice, "Yeah, come touch my thigh."

We laugh.

Slowly, I crawl over next to Slim. I know I look silly, crawling on all fours, but I was too lazy to stand.

"Touch your thigh?" I don't really notice what I'm doing. The wet grass and cool breeze, along with the near-blinding darkness kind of made me sleepy, and I move in a sort of tired, drunk haze.

He says nothing, and I'm just drunkenly leaning over him thoughtfully, wondering whether I should or not.

"I'm getting cold," Amy suddenly says, struggling to sit up. I laugh and help her up. We stumble to our feet, and a horrible thought assails me.

If Amy hadn't been there, what WOULD I have done?

I push the thought from my mind and run along with her, back to the far end of the field. As I run, followed by Slim, I reach for my jeans' fly, and unzip it. "Can I take my pants off?"

"Please," Slim says from behind me. I'm quite sure I heard a small amount of imploring in his voice. I laugh.

"I don't know, my underwear isn't that nice tonight. Oh well."

"Goddammit." Slim says, disappointed.

Amy laughs, and together we return to the table where we'd left our clothes. Slim pulls his jeans back on as Amy and I try to work out the proper way to put our shirts back on in the complete obscurity.

"So what next?" Amy asks, when I finally manage to arrange my shirt.

"Let's get lost in the woods," I say, pointing to the forest beyond the park. A pitch black opening, like a gaping mouth, can be seen among the dark trees.

"Alright, let's go on an adventure," Slim agrees cheerfully.

"But what if we get attacked?" Amy asks.

"Slim is there to protect us," I say, and Slim shoots me an amused look.

"Yeah, you're safe with me."

Reluctantly, Amy agrees.

We wander over, and as we reach the gaping dark void, Amy suddenly freaks out.

"No, wait, it's too dark," she says, and starts pulling on my hand, to keep me from going any further.

Slim and I look at her amusedly. On unspoken accord, we try to coax her to come along with us. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was just a forest.

"Don't you see?" She squeaks, "This is EXACTLY how horror movies start!"

"Amy," I say, in my most reasonable (if tainted by drunkeness) tone, "Amy, look, it's just a little wood. The most threatening thing in there are Slim and I, and some nasty branches. Are you scared of that?"

"I don't like the dark," Amy whimpers. "We're gonna get attacked by a murderer!"

I hear Slim sigh, and I watch as the slightly pale blob of his shirt slowly gets swallowed up by the darkness as he wanders away. "No, wait, Slim, come back. Slim!"

At my imploring tone, he pauses, but then keeps going. He obviously is trying to pressure Amy into giving in and following him.

"No, please, let's not split up," Amy begs, and still tries to pull me away, to keep me from reaching for Slim. He's out of reach, and almost out of sight by now. The dark is invasive, like ink. Even my twenty-twenty night vision is struggling to make out patches of black and grey.

"Slim!" I call. "Please, slow down. Amy, come on, we're gonna lose him."

"No, I don't want to go," she whispers. "I'm scared!"

"Slim!" I call back, hoping he'll come to assist me. Amy is surprisingly strong for such a tiny girl. "Slim, please!" I know my tone sounds desperate by now, but I've lost sight of him. This, more than Amy's panic, scares me somewhat. "Amy, come on..."

"No, we're going to―"

I put an arm around her shoulders, and say, in the most reasonable tone I can muster, "Amy, look, I promise on my word that NOTHING will happen to you, but please, we have to find Slim now."

Amy grabs the hem of my shirt. "Don't let me stumble, okay?"

"I won't." Slowly, I try to get her to walk forward. I can't see where we're stepping. It's like walking in a black pit. My eyes are useless. I only notice branches when they hit me in the face.

"Bow down, there are branches here. Slim! Where are you?"

"Why did we have to come here?" Amy whimpers, scared. "This is just dumb."

"Slim! Slim, just make some noise, or something. He can't be that far― oof!"

I come in collision with something tall, warm and hard. It's the smell of his skin that I recognize first, though. I raise my head, and my nose brushes his suddenly.

Whoa. I'm closer than I thought.

"Slim!" Amy exclaims in relief as he and I awkwardly break apart with reflex speed. "How could you do that to us? You scared the hell out of me!" In the dark, only Slim and I know how close we came to accidentally kissing. Thank god she didn't see anything.

"Hey, it's okay," Slim says, a little raggedly ―he sounds as stunned by our peculiar collision as I feel― "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?"

"You could have waited for us," I say, reaching for him. I want to know where he is, and my eyes are useless. I encounter his arm, and with a motion I couldn't see, his hand takes mine a second later, securely squeezing.

"I knew you'd get through to her," he says, his tone warm.

Amy babbles on about how we're going to die if we stay a second longer in here. As the three of us stand around, arguing that nothing is going to happen, I finish pointing out to Amy that the best way to fight one's fear of the dark is to imagine what things look like in the sunlight.

As I finish saying this, in the most soothing tone possible, I realise that my fingers are intertwined with Slim's. I break off, confused.

Did I do that? I freak out. I'm sure I did that. Entwine my fingers with his, I mean. But he didn't say anything. I can't see his face. I'm sure he's looking at me with a curious frown. Why hasn't he shaken me off yet?

I'm not listening to Amy's continued argument. For a full three seconds, I wait.

He's not letting go of my hand, twined fingers and all. His hand is warm and dry, and comforting, and our fingers fit together comfortably.

I don't know about him ―it's hard to tell when you have a black blanket over your eyes― but to me, it feels painfully right. So, so wonderfully right.

"Amy," I hear him say, and Amy's shoulders go higher up even under my arm. I'm not letting go of her shoulders, for one because I want her to feel safer, and for two because I'm sure she'd try to make a run for it unless I hold her in place. "CM's right. Just think of the sunlight."

"But I can't!"

I laugh. "Amy, don't you see it? I can. The sunlight is streaming through the bright green leaves, and the sky is blue in the tiny patches over your head. It's beautiful."

"No it's not," Amy pouts.

"Yes, it is," Slim says, soothingly. He slips an arm around her shoulders on her other side, and adds, "The birds are chirping, and the ladybugs are scurrying on the tree trunks."

"You guys are crazy."

He hasn't let go of my hand. Amy can't see it, but our hands are joined right in front of her, fingers still intertwined, and his arm around her shoulders covers mine. It's like a waltz with a third party between us. So odd. It's pitch black in here, but I feel comfort seep via Slim's hand into my fingers and palm.

"Look, one step at a time," I say, and Slim and I chuckle as we carefully move forward, feeling ahead of us with our feet before stepping firmly.

"Don't let me stumble!"

"We won't," Slim laughs. "You're safe."

His thumb rubbed against the back of my hand comfortingly.

And I know I didn't imagine it.

We stumbled forward, openly comforting Amy and joking about being attacked by zombies, but in the dark, out of sight, I'd squeeze his hand, he'd caress my palm with his fingers. They were always unexpected motions, disguised as accidents, caused by our stumbling through the underbrush―

But I know that when he squeezed my hand as we reached a clearing, it wasn't an accident.

We paused in that clearing, looking up at the starlit sky, cut by black treelines, and Slim said, as means of comforting Amy, but I saw him look at me in the moonlight over her head, "See? This is beautiful."

I laughed. I was sobering up, and it was drunkeness of another kind that filled me. "It's amazing."

"You're kidding, right?" Amy said, whimpering still. "I'm scared. Let's go back. We're gonna get lost."

"Amy," Slim scoffed, "we've hardly walked fifteen meters."

"But―"

"Just enjoy it," I say. "It's so pretty. Look at the stars!"

"I don't want to. Let's go back."

So, after a minute of deliberation, Slim and I finally relented. As we turned, we were forced to let go of our hands, but neither of us said anything.

"You guys are crazy," Amy said as we emerged from the woods. "And I cannot believe we did all we did tonight."
Slim and I exchanged amused glances.

"I think I love you guys," Amy said, still blissfully drunk. Slim and I, though, were beginning to sober up a little, and were entertained by her antics.

"Yeah. 'Run around in just a bra and jeans while excessively tipsy in the dead of night', check."

"I couldn't have said it better," Slim smirked. "That's one less thing for you to do on your list of things―"

"―to do before I die," I agreed.

"I never, ever imagined I'd do something that crazy with the two of you one day," Amy repeated as we reached Moe's again. She moved ahead, spotting her sister excitedly.

"And if any of it gets out," I say, pointing at Slim, who looked at me with a casually raised brow, "you are dead."

"Shame."

"You're warned."

"My hands have been out of use way too long. And my fingers really are magical." The look he sends my way isn't so much about convincing me as it is to drive home the fact that he's already proven his point.

I really hate him sometimes. If he's not interested, he's not exactly helping me get over it.

I try not to make any strangled sounds. Instead, I look at Amy, who was intercepted by a worried PB a ways ahead, and sigh, "Jesus, I need a boyfriend."

I like to think that was residual drunkeness talking.

"You called?"

I laugh. It's true that for a while, Slim had the whole Jesus look down pat. His soccer teammates call him that still. "No, not Jesus as in you. I mean Jesus in general."

"You say Jesus," Slim shrugs, "and you're talking to me. Period. Me and my miracle hands."

I am saved from having to reply by PB, who suddenly pops up in Slim's face, exclaiming, "Oh my god, there you are! I was worried you were gone without me. Where were you? Amy's too drunk to give me an answer that makes actual sense. Something about dark woods and zombies."

"We were just helping her out with her break-up depression," I say, neutrally. "And PB, we wouldn't leave without you, you know it."

He looks sheepish and relieved. "Still. What were you doing?"

"Nothing," Slim and I reply in unison. PB eyes us suspiciously, but eventually lets the subject drop. I notice Anthony listening in, then averting his attention.

Ah, poop. Now people are going to draw conclusions again.

...

Then again, who cares? I'm too confused (and too happy?) to think.

Love,
CM