Poesy

badonkadonk

There is no possible way that I'm sleeping tonight. Thanks to Humphrey, I now have a pretty terrible, slightly sketchy idea on how to keep Annika from moving to Los Angeles. Which means I have a buttload of scheming to do. Whatever, don't judge me. If she won't stay for me, maybe she'll stay for the sake of new love. I can't lose my favorite creature on this planet to smog city.

"Okay, what's your deal?" Annika glances back and forth between the road and me. The sun is starting to set and the pink sky is reflecting in her brown eyes. I love how pretty she is.

"What d'you mean?"

"For starters, you've been staring at me like a creep since you got in my car."

"Just trying to remember your face since you're abandoning me for a life of Supreme fanny packs and exploding vape pens."

The corners of her mouth turn up slightly but her eyebrows pull together into a frown. "We're still going to see each other, Poe. We already FaceTime constantly and I'll come and visit whenever I can. It won't be that much different."

Yeah right.

We pull into my parking lot. The neon signs hanging in the windows glow with beer logos. That's right, I live in a bar. Well, kind of. My dad owns it and we live in the apartment above it.

"Promise me you'll still drive me home after work."

"What?" She scoffs.

"Promise me, Annika."

"You want me to drive from California to Nebraska three times a week to drive you home from work?"

"That's precisely what I want."

"You're ridiculous," she snorts. "Do you want me to spend the night? We could watch True Romance and sneak a case of warm beer from the storage room like we used to." She reaches over and pokes me in the cheek.

"Nah, it's okay. I have plans."

"You do?"

"Yea. I'm going to wash my hair three times in a row and then eat my weight in Oreos." Also, stalk every boy's Facebook profile within a ten-mile radius to find one for you to fall in love with.

"Wowww, exciting."

"I know right." I reach for the door handle but she grabs my arm before I climb out.

"Poesy?" Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. "I have two months left. Can't we just enjoy it?"

I nod.

We both hold up our pinky, pointer, and thumb, signing 'I love you' to each other through the passenger windshield. We do this every time we say goodbye. Lately, I feel a pang in my chest every time she holds up those three fingers.

...

The sound of a deep muffled voice and a woman's giggle float past me as I climb the stairs to the apartment. I hesitate before opening the door, hoping to glob it's not a couple strangers. It wouldn't be the first time that some drunks found their way up here looking for more private quarters. The voice becomes clearer as I creak the door open. It's my dad.

Dragging my feet, I make my way down the hall, towards the kitchen. The source of annoying giggles is sitting on our counter, her deep brown legs dangle off the edge. My dad stands next to her, taking swigs of his beer. They don't notice me so I drop my backpack to catch their attention before they start making out or something.  Their heads snap up, startled by my presence.

"Uh, who are you?" She snaps at me.

"I'm his wife. Who are you?" I say casually, opening the fridge and grabbing the carton of milk out.

My dad and mom had me when they were only seventeen, making him only thirty-four now. He could probably still pass for twenty-five on a bad day. Whenever we are together in public, people assume he's my brother or boyfriend. Which is normally super cringe, but definitely works to my advantage when messing with his hookups.

My father lets out an awkward chuckle. "She's not my wife. She's my daughter," he reassures the now bewildered woman.

"Your daughter?" I hear her ask as I walk to my room.

"Hey, Poe," my dad calls, following behind me.

I spin to face him. "Hey dude, don't worry about me. I'll stay in my room."

"Yea, I'm sorry. I thought you'd be out, you know since it's Saturday and you're seventeen."

"Dad," I grab his shoulder and look into his eyes sincerely and whisper, "I'm not that cool."

"Yea, okay," he smirks.

"Could you just tell her to get her badonkadonk off the counter. I don't think my peanut butter is ready for that jelly."

"Too many song references at once."

"I know."

"Why are you taking a carton of milk to your room?"

"Eating a lot of feelings tonight daddio, need something to wash them down with." I raise it up as if to say cheers and disappear into my room.

As soon as I shut the door, I put on my recent playlist and change out of my nasty work uniform. I spend about fifteen minutes dancing around in sweatpants, eating an entire sleeve of Oreos and chugging milk. This. is. the. life.

Once my stomach is thoroughly pissed off at me, I plop down on my bed and fire up my laptop. It'll be easy to find a guy that thinks Annika is hot. She is the prettiest girl in our school. She's also super sweet and funny. Yes, I fully realize that I sound like I am in love with her. I totally am, but unfortunately, we're both hopelessly attracted to the male species.

Since Annika's friends list mostly consists of dudes, I scroll through and check each of their profiles. These guys are going to have to compete with an entire city so I only write down three that seem to have what it takes. I'll have to meet them in person to tell for sure.

I answer an incoming Skype call and Annika's face appears across the screen.

"How does this look?" She stands up, tugging down the bottom of a black spaghetti strap dress, layered over a white tee.

"It's cute."

"Liar," she huffs. She always thinks I'm lying to her about how she looks. Honestly, she really can pull off anything.

"Where you going?"

"Party at George's."

"Don't his parties always get busted?"

"Yea, cause his neighbor is a miserable worm. I'll just get out early." She shrugs.

"I think I'm gonna go too."

"Really?" She asks excitedly and sits back in front of the screen.

"Yea, my dad has a lady friend over and I'm kinda bored." Also, the guys on my list will probably be there.

"Yassss Poe. I'll be there to pick you up in fifteen. Maybe wear a dress?"

Haha. Not a chance.