PICS and IT DIDN'T HAPPEN

04. The Cases

My mom snatches the Nintendo away from my palms. I look up at her scared. Shit. What did I not hear her say? 

"I told you to put away those boxes in the garage," my mom shouts, partly out of anger, partly because she still doubts my mind has not returned to our residence from my island in the Animal Crossing. 

"Okay," I say, springing out of my couch. The luxury to postpone mom's orders are only for when they're communicated to me the first time, not for when she has been asking me to do it since a week ago. 

Straightening my spine I step into the garage with every mitochondria in my body ready to churn out as much energy as needed to get the job done today. 

Then I look at the mounted cardboard boxes, with a raised head, and all the neurons in my brain tell me to run back and pick up my Nintendo. 

I cuss at my sister for pulling out all these boxes when she was here, in search of a book she needed but never cared about owning till then. She got the book and I got the chore to put all the boxes she unearthed from the basement back to their places. 

With an arm over my waist, I think. If only... 

Hmmm. 

My signature evil grin appears on my face. It's the omen for the good times ahead. I make a turn and walk straight out of the garage and into my neighbor's house. 

"Hey, Nina, where's Raylan?" I ask the mother of the boy I'm here to mistreat. She pulls out a large tray full of cookies from the oven and says, "In his room." I wince at the tray. 

My mother and her friends like to make sweets. So much so that it's a miracle I even know what salty tastes like. Leaving Nina's obsession with her oven, I turn on my heel and take a step towards the kitchen's exit. 

I stop. I forgot where Raylan's room was. Last time I visited his room I was compelled to visit this household for his eighth birthday. I turn back. Nina says, without looking up from her nicely browned cookies that I'll probably eat soon after some of them is sent to my mom, "Upper right." 

When I'm in front of his room, I notice that the door is slightly open. Only slightly, which is great. Because then I can do this. 

I stretch my legs and hips before taking a couple of steps back. Then I charge ahead and kick the door open. I always wanted to do this, but my own door is too precious for me to try this on. 

A half naked Raylan looks up from his phone, surprised. "What the?" 

I see the towel on his bed. "Did you just take a shower?" I ask. 

"No, but I'm going to. Wait. What the fuck are you doing in my room?" 

"Don't take a shower yet," I tell him. 

He smirks. "Why? You want to join me?" he cockily asks. 

I confidently smile. "Would love to." 

For a second his face looks flustered, which in turn makes me nervous. Why the hell he's reacting like that? "But you've a job to do first," I say, dissipating the awkwardness with important business. 

He gets serious too. "What?" he asks with annoyance. 

"I've some boxes in the garage that need to be moved to the basement." 

He bites his lips, probably thinking the most offensive version of "go fuck yourself" in his mind. It doesn't matter though. I came prepared. The photos have been mindfully edited enough to be Instagram worthy. 

"Fine," he reluctantly says before picking up his t-shirt from the bed and slipping it over his buff torso. I resist the urge to check out my ex-bully. 

I lead him into the garage, expecting him to throw a tantrum after realizing the labor ahead of him. But he unfussily starts to lift the boxes, two at a time, and take them to the basement. 

Somehow blackmailing Raylan is not as fun as I'd imagined first. He's not putting up much of a  fight and agrees pretty quickly to my demands, not that he has a choice. 

But even I'll forget I've those photos of him if he doesn't give me the chance every now and then to pull them out with an evil laugh and threaten him. 

I grab myself a stool and settle down to oversee his work, and check my Instagram. There's a lovers' quarrel happening in the social media that my friends and I have been following. 

It's about a love triangle, or a threesome. The details are fuzzy. The kids are from a neighorhood school.

"You know Rick and Gary?" I ask Raylan as he picks up a couple of boxes. He knows everyone. I trail behind him as he heads to the basement. 

"Is it about them getting it on with Cheryl?" He says.

See, he knows everyone. 

"Cheryl posted a video claiming she loves Rick, and Gary tried to break them apart," I tell him. 

He shakes his head. "She was with Rick first. Then tried to get Gary. Gary turned her down. I think there was a threesome at some point," he says after putting away the last pair of boxes. 

"Guess a threesome isn't as fun as it is advertised to be," I say as we reach the garage exit. He turns and smirks. "That's not for a virgin to conclude," Raylan says. 

"Says the boy harassed by someone half his size," I respond. With his grin stolen away, Raylan leaves for his home.

I return to my couch and swap my phone for the Nintendo. I wish dating was as easy and fun like these games. 

The boys are just too loud, lousy and always in a hurry. But I suppose it wouldn't be too bad either to have a boyfriend. Someone I can ask to move boxes without blackmailing him. 

End of chapter