ex best friends with the player

i'm not a fan of drunken dead cats

trying to walk still to find the bathroom is a lot harder when you drank half your body weight in alcohol and the world would stay straight.  so I end up wobbling and holding the walls for support. 

my legs and arms were warm, and my head felt light.

I was upstairs, I've walked into two rooms thinking they were the bathroom, they both had people going at it.  I didn't interrupt much though so don't worry.  don't worry because they no one even took the time to acknowledge me standing in the doorway.  sad thing is I did acknowledge them for a spilt second.... they were naked.  not the sight I didn't to keep holding my liquor in my stomach. 

so here I am, hoping to god that this third door is the bathroom.

I push open the bracing myself for the worst, and I'm just welcomed to a broad shouldered guy zipping up his pants.  alone

hm no,  girl....wonder were she went, or if there was one at all...

he looks up, and you have got to be shitting me. and it the one, the only Blake Jackson.  shit. 

his eyes turned cold when he looked up to see me gaping at him.

he rolled his eyes and continued getting dressed. 

"I know I'm hot and all, but you shouldn't be so shocked" he said with amusement in his eyes. 

"sorry" I mumbled, still frozen in the doorway. he ignored my comment and continued what he was doing. "hey, you know where the bathroom is"? grabbing his short attention span back to me. 

"across the hall" he mumbled walking past me.  I couldn't help but notice his built-all muscular and tall-almost lickable.  almost. I'm not that weird. 

I followed him, ignoring the pain in my bladder. 

"If you like looking  at me so much you dont have to follow me, just take a picture.  they usually last longer" he said amusement in his voice. 

"no, its not that," i started. what do i say to him without coming off as some creepy person?  like, hey rememebrerme at lunch,you made me spill ketchup all over my hand?  no, i dont think so.

"hey, Blakey," some girl said 'suductively' placing her hand on his chest and trying to look "cute".  when really she looks like a try-hard.... meaning looking a dead robotic cat.  so, not at all "cute". 

she gave me a hard cold glare, her stone eyes practically looking right through me. i glared back. 

looks like shes not a fan of me, well i'm not a fan of drunken dead cats.

"uh,hi..." blake nervously said, pause after his first actually word.  doesnt look like Mr. Flirt knows this girls' name.  dumbass.

"that was so good, maybe we could do it again," she replied sweetly, still giving me cold glances every now and then. 

Blake just nodded and walked away, completely ignoring her now. 

i coouldnt help the giggle that escaped my lips.  it was just too funny.

"what" she sneered.

"oh, nothing' i sang and headed for the bathrom again.

sitting outside in the cool light air, on the large wooden patio surronded by tons of people i wouldnt have even be speaking with, if i wasnt at this party.  chatting with everyone.  playing childish games like truth of have, have i never, etc. 

i was laying on Daisy's lap, laughing at some guy named Nate with 3 facial peircings and spikey hair trying to win a dare by attempting to give TJ a lap dance.  it looked more a goffer trying to milk a pig.

~*~*~*~*~~*~*

The sunday after the party went by excruiciatingly  slow.  i felt i was in the hangover.  i woke up in some short red dress that could pass for a top, i was lying next to Tj, who was wearing a bear costume.  i almost had a heart attack.

hangover are the worst.  waking up, feeling like you live in the desert, and had a camel stomp on your face a few hundred times.  then, having every little noise sound like the volume was turned up full blast, not  helping with the camel stomp issue at all. 

on Monday i was fine though, I was even happy after I got a call from the manager of the bowling alley in town called 'strike king'.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

later that week I went to the interview.  the bowling alley was dark with tons of teenagers hanging around.  most of them  hanging where the pool table was.  There were dark lights all around the bowling alley.

the 'strike king' walked me into a small office, it was a 12x12 room.  gray walls and all wooden furniture.  I sat across from his big desk in a small wooden uncomfortable chair.

the 'strike king' was in his 40s and balding, he had a warm smile that lite up his dark eyes.  he was a little scary at first.  throughout the interview he kept giving me these looks, like trying to read me and seeing if what my answers are are true.