Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Coincidence?

I manage to make it home in one piece.

        I feel proud of myself for not puking on myself (or others), I made out with a gorgeous sent from heaven guy, and got paid $75. Pretty successful night, I'd say. My driving isn't even bad. Just need to get in the door quietly.

        My mom opens the door for me at 2:17 in the morning. She smiles a 'you're in trouble' smile before dragging me inside. I'd feel guilty, if I cared. The glare I'm getting is pretty intense, though. Point for mom.

        "Well, how was it, Sweetie?" she asks.

        "I'm sorry, mom. I just, I meant to be here a long time ago, really."

        "No alcohol, right?" she asks. "Oh, silly me. Of course not. Well, I told your father you might be staying at a friend's house. So, be quiet as you go upstairs." She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek anyway. "Dad said he wants to talk to you tomorrow, but I'm guessing you'll want to hold that off?"

        "Oh, no way, Mother. I just love our 'shove Catholic faith down Brandon's throat talks'," I say sarcastically. A quiet burp escapes my throat, which makes me laugh. Mom hushes me.

        "Actually, I think it was going to be a 'let's talk about Brandon's potential new car' talk, but not anymore. I suggest you go to bed and get up at a decent time. I'll give you a talk myself tomorrow."

        "I love you, Mom. I'm sorry."

        "Go to bed, Brandon."

* * * * *

        I pop awake to "Hips Don't Lie" being blasted on my phone. Ugh, Ashley. For a minute, I can't figure out how to make it stop. "8:21," I think to myself. Why does it feel like someone took a brick to my head? My pillow becomes the most comfortable item in the universe when I remember what my mom said last night. Then I remember all of last night. Truth or dare, Logan, lap dance, snorting, grinding, Logan, alcohol, new car, Hannah, Logan---wait. New car. New car. 

        Those two words make me spring out of my bed faster than Usain Bolt. Thinking about Logan can wait for now. I've wanted a new car longer than I've wanted to have sex with him. The water isn't even warm when I hop into the shower. What tune am I even humming? Who cares. Toyota Corolla LE. When's your birthday, Brandon? I don't know; Subaru Legacy? 

        Tripping and breaking my neck on the stairs is almost worth it for my new car. "Hey, Mom? Dad? I'm awake, see? I'm being your favorite responsible child." I run into the kitchen and the smell of crepes hits my nose hard. Although I love a good breakfast, this means my dad cooked. "Good morning."

        "Good morning, son," my dad responds. "I thought you were at a friend's house."

        "Well, I'm not," I say blandly. Then I remember I have to be nice today. "What did you do while I was gone?" I ask and set the table. My parents exchange glances with each other and I see a blush rise to my mom's cheeks. "Oh gosh. Gross. Not what I wanted to know at all. Forget I asked. Yikes."

        "How was your friend's party?" Dad asks.

        "Boring." Dad serves us our breakfast. "I should've stayed home." My mom just shakes her head. "So, what's new?"

        "Someone is in a good mood today," Dad says. "I actually wanted to talk with you, Brandon."

        "That's a first," I say with fake enthusiasm. My mom kicks me underneath the table. "I mean, you're never usually home." The crepes keep me distracted for a few seconds. I create a face with my strawberries and blueberries.