Wait, Aliens Are Hot?

Chapter Seven

Good morning/afternoon/evening/middle of the night (because don't lie, we've all read in the late hours of the night).

I woke up to a body sitting in front of my stomach. The TV turned on and a loud sports game began to play.

I opened my eyes. Roger sat, practically on top of me on his small couch. He took a gulp of his beer not minding my personal space.

I swear to god one of these days...

"Roger?"

"Hm."

"Roger," I poked his arm this time.

He swatted hand away.

"Can you get the freak off of me!"

I poked his arm with two hands jabbing him repeatedly, "Roger, hello?"

"What!" He drawled out finally giving me a look.

"Get off of me, you're a fat cow!"

He only tried shooing me away.

I groaned loudly. "Mooooove!" I yelled in his ear.

"Fuck off."

Annoying little twat. I scooted my body from behind him so that I was sitting normally at the front of the couch.

"What are you watching?"

"The Snither's vs. Baltar's game, they're rivals so this game is huge."

"Who are you rooting for?"

"Snithers."

"Okay then I'm rooting for Baltars," I said cheekily.

He looked at me with eyebrows raised, "Okay then have fun getting your ass kicked," He chuckled.

"I don't know, looks like," I squinted my eyes at the screen, "we're in the lead." Wow, they actually were.

He scoffed, "By one point! It was a lucky shot, you just wait, DeCarlo is the only one who makes goals anyways, Baltars are nothing without him."

"De-what? Who is he?"

"Number 26."

I peered ahead looking for number 26, finally spotting him walking down the field wiping the sweat of his forehead. They TV zoomed in on him right then, talking about the last goal he made.

"Oh hello sexy," He looked like a younger, darker haired version of David Beckham, "My, my DeCarlo, Natalie picked a good team."

Roger sneered. "Sure," chugging the last of his beer, he stood up. He walked to the fridge and brought back four beers.

"Drink up, your gunna need an ego boost when you lose," he smirked at me.

My competitive side took over, "We'll see about that."

***

An untracked count of beers later and five points behind I was had my hands over my ears yelling nonsense as Roger sung some song about the Snithers.

"Oh how we reign SUPREEEME!" He chanted out of tune with a big sloppy grin on his face.

Yeah, we were drunk.

Just then my team scored a goal and I threw my hands in the air, "Whoo! Well, well Roger, would you look at that. Looks like someone's coming close!"

He laughed, "Nat, your still four points behind and their are only five minutes left in the game."

"I don't care! Nothing is impossible, you have no idea what the Bal-mars can do in five minutes," I had to win, I had to.

"Bal-mars? You don't even know your teams name," he chuckled, "Do you even know what they can do in five minutes?"