I Wish I Loved You

9: I'd Rather Have A Monkey...

I chuckled quietly and turned to my friend, "I guess I have to say goodbye Mickey."

After saying goodbye and climbing into the car, he drove off.

.

.

.

"You sure?" I asked Tyler once more. After driving for five hours he looked tired, yet he refused to let me drive or stop at a gas station or rest stop.

"I swear, I'm fine." he lied. Every time we drifted into silence he slightly swerved and I asked to drive.

"Why won't you just let me drive, I'll be fine."

"Last time I let you talk me into letting you drive you almost died."

"Could I drive if I promised not to almost die again?"

He glanced at me, "No."

"Ugh," I sighed and turned on the radio. I didn't really remember the song and guessed I heard before the accident, but I immediately started humming.

"You know this song?"

I nodded, "Well, no, I don't remember hearing it but obviously I listened to it a lot before the accident. Why?"

"This is I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco, you listened to it all the time claiming it was 'our song', you always said it was the song playing when I walked up to you at that party for the first time."

I smiled at the light in his eyes as he told me about the history of the song. Afterwards, we rode in a comfortable silence; around five o'clock that evening I dozed off.

I stood in the middle of someone's front room, sweating drunken bodies surrounded me. Mac was off, probably 'getting friendly' a new guy or groping her on again off again college fling, Roman.

I stood off to the side of a makeshift dance floor, drink in hand. As soon as I start to feel the buzz that idiot, Tyler-something, approched me. I never liked the asshole, he was a womanizer and a man-whore; he used his looks to get his way.

"Hey," when I didn't respond he looked at the dance floor and continued, "what is it about alcohol that makes rhythmically challenged people think they can dance?"

"What is it about me specifically that makes you think you're getting into my pants?"

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? To score a friend to take to bed."

He scoffed, "No, I'm just trying to make friends, a guy can't make friends anymore?"

"Not you. You don't make friends with women, you sleep with them and leave. I won't be one of those girls."

°*°*°*°

I walked out of my technology class, intent on getting home and doing nothing. Just as I rounded the corner to the parking lot my face smashed into the chest of another person.

"Holy- I'm sorry," I let out.

"No problem, it's my fault." I looked up only to met the eyes of that Tyler kid and I rolled my eyes slightly.

"Yeah, whatever. It's fine." As I tried to walk around him he grabbed by arm. I whipped around, "What?"

"Uh, let me take you out... to make up running into you." He smiled.

"Nice pun, but I'd rather have a monkey shit in it's hand and slap me across the mouth with said hand." I smirked and walked off, unluckly Tyler followed.