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Marty giggled, ‘So, is Jesse sleeping with you or me?’ Gasping in surprise Jesse shouted, ‘I can’t go to bed with a wet dream.’ Both Gage and his cousin burst out laughing. Stumbling toward her friend she pulled on Marty’s arm, moving her a half an inch from Gage, before attempting a drunk whisper, ‘He’s too good looking to want an ‘almost’. Not that I wouldn’t want to, but look at him,’ they both turned their gazes on Gage. ‘Now look at me.’ Suddenly sesame street popped into her head and she started to sing, ‘One of these things is not like the other…’ Marty released a sigh. She knew about Jesse’s insecurities and because he was standing right next to them and their overly loud conversation Gage now new about them as well. Fortunately she was too drunk to realize what she’d done. ‘Come along girls let’s get you both in bed.’ ‘Thanks Gage,’ Marty said stumbling into the house holding Jesse’s hand while giggling a bit. ‘Kick off your shoes and climb in,’ he said in a deep. I peeled my eyes away from it and sent Brie a text: Okay. Done. I’m a man of few words; a Hemingway character. Right then, I remembered that she wasn’t going to read the text any time soon. She was either in her studio painting (an activity for which she left her phone turned off), or she was out with Rachel and Sam on their once a week Bloody Mary outing. Yeah, probably the latter. She was probably shitfaced already. Then she would go home and paint. The minivan disappeared down the road. I watched it go and thought, sure, I’d bang a forty year old. Or however old she was. My dick burned when I peed for the next two days. It was troublesome. But they called me fairly promptly and told me no to the big-deal diseases (you know what I’m talking about). I was all in the clear. Brie suddenly pitied me. It was as if she felt like it was her fault for my discomfort when urinating. I told her in an abstract sense it was, but who cared. In a literal sense, it just meant we couldn’t have.
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