I'm Innocent - Jake T. Austin

14: What is Fear

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14: What is Fear

"Oh my god," I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand since my mouth is full. "What," Talon wipes his lips with a napkin. "You stuffed a whole taco in your mouth," I'm still in shock, "I thought you would've grown out of doing that." "Lori," he leans his elbows on the counter, "You should know that even though I lost weight doesn't mean my appetite diminished with it." He grabs another taco from the bag, unwrapping it before ripping open a package of Fire sauce. Before taking a bite, he makes eye contact with me, "Plus, you should know by now how much my mouth can fit since I won against you at the marshmallow game when we were younger." Right away, I remember how Talon's cheeks would puff up, as we continued to stuff our mouths with marshmallows.

Then, smirking, I look at him, and under my breath, state, "That's what she said."

He has just taken a bite, and right away, he pauses, coughing, his eyes maneuvering to my face, "Four eyes!" I take my fork, stabbing it into my taco salad, giggling, and in a mocking tone, "What's wrong, Eagle Shit?" He takes his drink, taking a huge sip, "That was uncalled for," he exhales - a loud burp laced into his breath - and continues to laugh with me, his voice not reflecting his facial expression. "You asked for it," I stick my tongue out at him before placing the green vegetables in my mouth. Although we were apart for seven years, the way we act hasn't changed. I mean, I'm still comfortable with him just like when we were younger.

We just arrived at his apartment from Taco Bell, ordering a bunch of food. Knowing him, I knew he'd get tacos - a mixture of both hard and soft - because ever since we were little, he believed the type of shell affected the taco itself. I would say the same thing is inside the taco, but he would never accept my statement, saying 'Lori, you don't know anything. Every taco shell is unique.' I, on the other hand, got a taco salad and a side of the nacho bell grande. "Hey, Lori. You wanna watch a movie?" He pulls my tray of nachos away from me, moving towards his living room space. Instantly, I grab my drink, following behind him, "What movie?" He lifts the case in front of me, causing my eyes to widen, "You still have it?" In plain sight, he holds up a DVD labeled with my name - that I wrote in Crayola marker - a long time ago for him to bring with him because I loved that movie so much. "I can't just lose the one thing my best friend holds dear," he rolls his eyes, opening the case, "Plus, if I did, I would've never heard the end from you if we ever saw each other again." He inserts the DVD into the player, and then looks me in the eyes, "I'm going to change into something comfortable." As he goes up the stairs, I pick up the nachos on the coffee table, sitting down on the long couch, watching the previews.

Soon enough, Talon slides down the railing, plaid pajama pants, slippers, and a familiar shirt. Then, it hit me. As he approaches me, a smile molds onto my face, and before I can speak, he cuts me off, "Hopefully you didn't miss this shirt too much."

"You still have it!" Joy overcoming my systems. "Of course, I do," he sits next to me as soon as he grabs the remote, "You gave me this shirt the last time we watched this movie." I remember that day too well. That was one of the only times I didn't wear the shirt while watching this movie. That was the day I told him he'd always be my best friend; that was the day he told me he's moving in a few days. "It faded a lot," I place my fingers against the material - his stomach firm - also noticing the black shirt altered into a dark grey, the characters on the shirt faded as well. He rests his hand above mine before our eyes connect, "Careful," he smirks, "You don't want to choke on your nachos."

Nostalgia hits me. Ever since we were in preschool, we use to watch movies at my house every day during the summer after playing outside. I would start complaining how tired I am, and then, despite how hard it was for Talon, he would piggyback me into the house, and we would make some popcorn, and pop in a DVD. "Lori - uhm - why do you wear that shirt every time we watch this?" His voice, curious and high, asks. I look down at my shirt that basically looks like a dress since it's all the way to my knees. "This is my favorite," I smile pointing at the character in the middle, "It's super comfortable and colorful." I plop down right next to him, and he smiles up at me, laying on his stomach on the floor, the popcorn bowl in front of him, "You're so excited to watch this, but we've watched this almost every week this summer." "I know, but you know I love it," I take a handful of popcorn, putting it in my mouth. He looks at me, "Careful," he pulls my hand away from my lips, "You don't want to choke on the popcorn." I pretend to lick his hand, and he lets go of my fingers. "I just don't want you to get hurt. I'm not certified to do CPR," he chuckles. I tilt my head, "What's CPR?" He puts his hand on his chin, the fat resting on his knuckles, "I don't know exactly. The lifeguard at the pool told me it's a way to get someone to breathe again when they don't have enough air inside of them," he explains. I nod, trying to understand every word he says. I poke his cheek, causing him to put air in his cheeks to make them pop, "Thanks for always having my back, Eagle poop."