Gary With The Steak Knife [COMPLETED]

I'm Sure You Have it in You to Poo Your Pants Again

Chapter 7

It was two days later and I was impatiently pacing back and forth beside the phone waiting for Drew to call. Then I realized this was 2023 and not 2000 and that I had a mobile phone and could actually take it with me.

He still had not called me despite stating that he would, and it was doing wonders for my self-esteem. Was this my karma for calling him a nerd? I apologized to God or to Satan; whoever controlled these kinds of things and begged them to forgive me.

"I'm sorry," I prayed aloud, getting down on my knees as I glanced up at the Heavens and then at the floor because like I said, Satan. "I'll never make fun of a person wearing a monogrammed bowling shirt again. I'll even make my next car a station wagon if that's what I need to do."

I didn't understand why Drew was giving me the cold shoulder. Didn't he have fun at all? Did he not feel the electricity in our kiss? We even connected over baguettes, for goodness sake. How could he not see how serious that was?

I was so lost in thought that I nearly jumped out of my skin when the Psycho theme song started playing from my phone. Shrieking, I made a grab for the cell. Let me offer you a pro tip, horror music is not an appropriate ringtone for when you are zoning out, or home alone late at night for that matter. That shit is scary as hell.

I glanced down at the screen, bargaining away my unborn, future child for it to be Drew calling.

Brian. Leave it up to ol' Bri guy to continue to disappoint me. First with his small...mind, then by dumping me on our anniversary, and now by just simply existing.

What the hell did he want?

"What the hell do you want?"

"Zoe, it's Brian." No shit. Apparently he was stuck in the '90s as well and didn't realize phones now came with this super cool feature called caller ID. "Can we meet," he continued. "We need to talk."

"Brian, I'm busy." I'm waiting for the next love of my love to call me back. "And no, we don't need to talk. I'm doing perfectly fine without you."

He blew out a breath. "Well see, that's what I need to talk to you about. I'm not. I miss you, Zoe."

I scoffed. "You mean you miss being embarrassed? Go get some Chinese take-out then. I'm sure you have it in you to crap your pants again."

He sharply inhaled. "I'm sorry for calling you that. Yes, it's true you can be slightly dramatic but that's what makes you interesting. Exciting."

Plopping down on the couch, I studied my fingernails noting that my polish was so overgrown my manicure was starting to resemble French tips. "Isn't Ashleigh exciting too," I said through a yawn. "I mean she has massive boobs, Brian. Come on, I thought you were a guy."

"She has no personality."

"Ah, I see," I replied kicking my feet up on the ottoman in front of me. "The appeal of the fun bags has worn off and now you're looking towards Zoe for entertainment. I'm not a television, Brian. Go find someone else."

"Zoe, please," he begged. "Give me another chance."

"Okay, let me think about that for a second," I said, tapping my chin. "Hmm...No."

"Don't be like that, Zoe. We were together for two years. Are you really just going to throw that all away?"

Sighing, I sat up. "Brian, I'm becoming quite talented at throwing in the towel lately but maybe if you cry for me, I'll reconsider."

I started to press the hang-up button just as Brian blurted out, "But I want to marry you."

I froze as though I had just been pelted by one of Elsa's icicles. He wanted what now? Images of church bells, a white dress, and kids that looked like the miniature version of him assaulted my brain. Stop it, Zoe. He hurt you, remember? What's to stop him from going off with another Ashleigh? Or perhaps this time, a Kelly with flaming red hair and an infectious laugh.

A visual of a scowling Tiffany wearing a sea of pea-green tulle as she stood in front of an audience of two-hundred people popped into my head. I could feel myself caving.

Every fiber of my being longed to slam the phone down on Brian, only I couldn't because again, not the '90s. Somehow, angrily jabbing at the 'end call' button just didn't have the same effect, you know? So reluctantly, and against my better judgment, I agreed to see him.