I fiddled with the dashboard as I tried to listen to Wes's rant about...okay, so I wasn't even listening enough to tell you what he was talking about. Fail.
"Creeper, you okay over there?" I jumped when he spoke.
"Yeah," I replied, "Just tired for some reason." Whatever, so I lied. He'd take the bait.
"Okay. So McDonald's, then? I'm starving." He rubbed his stomach and looked as if he were in pain. On the contrary; I had just seen him wolf down an entire 2 lb burrito from Taco Bell on the way out of the food court.
"Haha! Wes, Jesus. How much can you possibly eat?" He just grinned and winked.
"I'm a 'growing boy', and growing boys have to eat." He smirked and I rolled my eyes.
"So McDonald's it is," I chuckled. Though, it was short-lived when a gut-wrenching feeling of dread overcame me. I lowered my eyebrows in frustration. Why was that happening lately? Was something bad going to happen? Oh well. Better for me to find out on my own than to make it worse by freaking out about it.
"Thank you for choosing McDonald's, can I take your order please?" The woman's muffled voice called over the intercom.
"Yeah," Wes started, leaning out of the window, "One double cheeseburger meal, plain, with a Dr. Pepper, medium.....uh....hm...three buck doubles, extra cheese and ketchup, super-size order of fries, a medium coke, and a large chocolate milkshake."
There was silence; that poor woman. She must think we have a van full of people with all that food on the order slip. Wes turned to give me his signature grin.
"Your total comes to fifteen ninety-seven, please drive around to the first window." He obliged, probably dying to stuff his face--again today.
"Holy fuck, Wes! How much can you possibly eat?!" He chuckled at me, shook his head, and drove off with the food. The drive home was filled with sounds of Wes eating all hundred and fifty pounds of food, and his, "can you hand me another fry?"
Once at my house, Wesley snatched the bag of the food--or what was left of it (he had most likely eaten my food as well)--and headed into the house and up the stairs to my bedroom. Plopping down on the floor, he grabbed the remote to the PS3 and turned the system on, waiting for it to load his account. I sat down beside him, hastily grabbing my food out of the bag before he got to it. I shoved a fry in my mouth.
"What are we playing first?" I asked, licking my fingers of the salt.
"Mortal Kombat. Duh."
And so for hours, we played Soul Calibur IV and Mortal Kombat Vs DC Universe. Of course, he was The Joker, while I chose my favorite character, Kung Lao (he ROCKS, and you know it).
I was too distracted by an almost completely naked Siegfried in front of me (Wes's doing, of course) to 1. beat Wes, and 2. hear my mom come through the front door. Wes paused the game.
"What the he--" he clamped a hand over my mouth.
"Dottie, what time is it? Your mom's home." I shot him a wide-eyed look before I pulled my phone off the edge of my bed and pressed the unlock key. It read 7:42. Phew. Good. School had been over for much longer than an hour, and it still gave us time for Wes to 'drive' us to the house and play games. No alibi needed, I thought with a smirk.
He unpaused the game. "Hey, is it okay if I crash here tonight?" There he was again, pressing the buttons so fast I could almost believe he had an extreme form of epilepsy.
I shrugged my shoulders, "ask the Don"--meaning my mother-- "you know I don't care." He nodded and went back to the game. Not that he had ever really taken his attention away. How did I know that? I was being creamed. And I was even playing as Nightmare, one of the biggest characters on Soul Calibur. I sighed. Of course, he then swung the Zweihander down on me so fast I barely had time to blink.
"Haha! Alright. Now that I've officially kicked your big ass, I'm gonna go downstairs and ask your mom if I can sleep with her daughter tonight. Hehe." He got up and began to walk away.
"Hey! My ass is not big! And, go ahead. Ask her that, I dare you. See if you don't come back upstairs missing some very much needed organs." I chuckled as he winced, cupped himself, and backed out of the bedroom.
Once downstairs, we both greeted my mother, who looked extremely flushed from a long day at work.
"Hey, Mrs. Sanders, do you mind if I stay here tonight? I mean..if you didn't have plans or anything..." he trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
"Of course not, Wesley. You're always welcome over here, you know that. And, since you're over here, you mind helping pack, will you?" We both shot her puzzled looks, furrowing our eyebrows. She looked over at me. " I didn't tell you, Dottie?"
"Tell me what?" There went that sense of dread again.
"Your father got a promotion, and my boss agreed to transfer me to the branch in the Keys. We're moving."
"What?!" Wes and I both shouted at the same time. "Moving? Why?" I took a quick step forward, angry. She was joking, right?
"I just told you why, Dottie. Now calm down. There's no need to act like that. You'll still have your friends, and it isn't that long a drive--"
"That's practically a six hour drive, mom! You know that!"
"Dottie. You better take your tone with me down a notch or two, or Wesley will have to go home.
I clenched my fists. "Whatever." With that, I turned on my foot and stormed back up the stairs. Once I got to my room, I slammed the door and crashed onto my bed, screaming into my pillows. I felt hands on my back, and then Wesley, too, was laying on the bed next to me.
"We'll still talk. A lot. I swear. And, every chance I get, I'll visit. And so will you. Right?" I looked at him, seeing the sadness forming, and nodded.
"I want to go to bed." I sighed and rolled over so I was laying sideways across Wes. He let his arm fall on my stomach, and I started pinching his arm hair. He chuckled, blowing in my ear. "Mmm," I grunted, "don't do that!" I slapped him, but that only made him chuckle. I immediately frowned. Who knows when I would ever get to spend time with Wes again?
"I don't want to go, Wes..." I pouted, turning on my side so Wes could move around. I pulled the covers up over me and reachd over to turn the lamp off.
"You could always sneak out and come stay with me," he breathed in my ear, placing his arm over me and pulling me to his chest; he sounded too hopeful.
"My parents would kill me, and you know it..." I sighed heavily, drifting off to sleep.
A nice, goofy pic of Wes (actually, Nixon from Framing Hanley)