“I’m just heading out to the store to get some milk!” I call out to Trace, who’s sitting on his ass, in front of the TV, where we've both been lazing the past few days away.
“What did you say?”
“I’m just going to the store for a few minutes,” I repeat as I stand in the doorway of the living room.
“Again?” he asks, turning his head from the TV.
“Yeah,” I reply, before I begin looking for my keys. What the hell did I do with them this time?
“But you just went a few days ago.”
I shrug. “It’s not my fault your fat ass drank all the milk.” Seriously, where did I leave the keys?
He stands up. “Then I’ll go.”
“No, it’s cool, I got it.” Ah, there are the little bastards, right on the table. I pick them up and throw them in the air triumphantly.
Trace raises an eyebrow. “You’re a loser, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one, man.”
I run out of the house before he can respond. I am actually just going to get milk, Trace and I have been official pigs the last few days and have eaten everything we can get our hands on, so repeated trips to the store are necessary. But I haven’t seen Cat since our last little talk a few days ago, and I would be lying to say I don’t hope she’s there today. I find her cynical attitude…refreshing. Maybe I’ve just been in Hollywood too long.
I pull up at the store and aimlessly wander around the aisles, picking up random things. That’s the great thing about stores like this; they sell the most obscure crap. I wander over to the DVD section, where a large section of its items are Friends series. I haven’t seen that for a while; maybe I’ll just pick up a few series before I head to the paycounter.
I can see her already; she’s serving some cuddly couple. Oh, she is too funny. She looks utterly disgusted by their canoodling; she keeps on sending them revolted looks and can’t witness one small kiss without rolling her eyes.
That girl is too much.
----------------------------------
You know what I hate? Apart from pretty people, skinny people and happy people, obviously. I really hate couples. What the hell is with them? Okay, you’ve found your significant other, do the rest of us really have to be reminded every second? It’s not that I’m jealous, because I’m so obviously not, it’s just urgh. Yes, ugh, that’s a good way to describe it.
The reason for my sudden rush of anti-love? The couple that’s in front of me, who are “so obviously in love.” Excuse me whilst I throw up. I can appreciate, perhaps even feel happy for people who have found each other, but not these two. He keeps on whispering things into her ear and she keeps on gasping and slapping his chest with her hands. Then she sneaks a glance at me and giggles as he kisses her cheek. Again, ugh.
“Here’s your receipt, have a nice day,” I smile, handing over their receipt.
“Oh we will,” says the guy, waggling his eyebrows. Listen pal, just because you have one, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to act like one.
“Thank you!” The girl calls over her shoulder as he grabs her by the hand and pulls her out of the store.
Assholes. I hope you get herpes.
That’s really put a damper on my day. I’m still muttering about idiots and the divorce rate when I hear a familiar voice.
“Actually I’ve heard it’s up to one in every two marriages that end in divorce, not one in three.”
It’s him. My heart does a flip flop in my chest and my stomach instantly fills with butterflies. Woah, hold on a second. That's not allowed to happen unless I say so. I swear, that hasn't happened since I had this massive crush on my English teacher in ninth grade and was completely in love...
Oh crap.
“Good,” I say, shooting a hateful glance towards the door where the couple recently left.
“That’s not very nice,” he says, grinning as he unloads his basket.
I shrug. “Well I’m not a very nice person.”
He glances at me as he loads his shopping and I steal a look at his blue eyes. “I think you are.”
Shows how well you know me, I’m tempted to say. But I don’t, I like how he actually thinks I’m actually a good person. “So, you’re becoming quite a regular here. Can’t resist me and my frozen potatoes?” I ask, holding up a packet of potatoes.
He laughs. “Nope. I guess you two are just irresistible.”
Why am I grinning? Like a god damn schoolgirl, for heaven's sake. I mentally scold myself as I catch sight of a Friends DVD in his basket; that’s a surprise. I point to it approvingly. “Good choice.”
He looks up from his bags. “Oh, yeah, that. I haven’t seen it in a while and thought I’d give it a shot. Plus, Friends is awesome.”
That is the smartest thing I think I’ve ever heard a man say. “It is, isn’t it?” I exclaim. I can’t believe this macho guy actually likes Friends. I may just have to fall in love with him.
He smiles and nods. “You like it too?”
I nod excitedly. “It’s my favorite show. When was the last time you saw it?”
“Hmm,” he pauses and taps his chin. “Probably just after Ross and Rachel got together?”
My jaw drops open. “Well LOADS has happened since then! Okay, what you’ll want to do is get all the episodes since then and watch them all in order, so you don’t miss anything!”
He laughs at me. Okay, maybe I’m a little enthusiastic, but Friends is a godsend for single people. What else would we do on those lonely Friday nights? It's been my date for the past nine years, and don't think I'm joking.
“Well, unfortunately these were the earliest ones I could find.”
“Oh, I have all of them, you can borrow them if you like.”
Shit. Really, shit. Not only did I openly admit I had all the Friends DVDs (and trust me when I say, there is never a good time to reveal that little gem of information), but did I offer him them? I’m such a loser, and now he’s not only going to know it too, but now he’s going to think I’m trying to wangle a date off him. I should just tape my mouth shut. Forever.
But to my great surprise, he doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Great! Why don’t you bring them over to my house and we can watch them together?”
Excuse me? So not only has he not run off into the distance screaming, “Madwoman!” at the top of his voice, but now he’s actually inviting me over? This man never ceases to amaze me.
“Hey, you could even bring your frozen potatoes,” he says, grinning at me and waggling his eyebrows.
I giggle and blush. What is he doing to me? Not only am I giggling, something I swore I would stop after high school, but now I’m actually blushing. This giggle/blush combo has got to stop. Immediately.
“Well, I guess I could…”
“You should. I’m going to be alone for the next few days and I could use a friend.”
Friend? I’m a friend? “Sure, okay then.”
He’s looking at me expectantly. What? “I’ll need your number to call you then,” he says slowly.
Oh yeah. God, this is really highlighting my rustiness to the whole dating game. Not that this is a date, of course. “Oh yeah, here.” I scrawl my number over the back of his receipt and handing it to him.
“I’ll call you then. When do you get off your shift?”
“Um, in about an hour.”
“Cool, I’ll try callin’ you around that time. Bye!”
“See you.”
You know what? Even if he doesn’t call, I think I’ll forever love him just for making me feel this happy. He’s such a great guy.
Woah, what the hell am I saying? Since when did I sound like a god damn Lizzie Maguire episode?
What has that man done to me?
-----------------------------
“Trace, I need the phone!” I whisper angrily.
He holds up his index finger to silence me. “No, don’t do that. I can just get a cab.”
I listen to his side of the conversation with annoyance. Five dollars says he’s speaking slowly just to annoy me.
“Oh no, he’s fine.”
Trace snorts. “No, he’s still a diva.”
I’m not amused.
“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll see you on Friday then. Bye,” he hangs the phone up.
“It’s about time, Shortstuff,” I mutter, rolling my eyes and picking up the phone.
“Who do you need to call so badly anyway?” he asks, collapsing onto the couch and picking up his magazine.
“Cat.”
“Cat who?”
“Saunders,” I reply, beginning to push the numbers into the keypad.
“The store girl you claim to like in a 'non sexual' way?”
“The very same,” I mutter, dialing the last number and holding the phone to my ear.
“Hold on a second,” he says, leaning over and taking the phone from me before swiftly hanging it up.
“Trace!”
“Why are you calling her if you don’t want anything to do with her?”
“I do want something to do with her, just not in a datey kind of way.”
He looks confused. “Then it’s kinda cruel to call her J, you’re just encouraging her.”
“Encouraging her to do what? We're just friends.”
He frowns. “Does she know that?”
“Of course,” I scoff. She does know it’s just as friends, right? “Look Trace, her and I would look ridiculous together.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s all…I dunno. Not like any of my other girlfriends.”
Trace snorts. “I would consider that a big plus.”
Hmm, the short one does speak the truth. “No, I mean she’s just…she’s not the girlfriend type.”
“Why?”
God, does he ever quit? “If you saw her, you’d know what I mean.”
Trace recoils and his frown deepens. “You’re such a dick, Justin.” He walks out of the room, leaving me standing with the phone in my hand and the dial tone in the air.
What did I say? Shrugging, I redial Cat. Trace can be as weird as he wishes for now. A feminine voice floats through the earpiece, but it's not Cat.
“Hello?”
“Um, hi. Can I speak to Cat please?”
There’s a pause. “Sure.”
I can hear the phone getting past from one person to another and there’s gigging in the background. “Hello?” a voice finally answers.
“Hi Cat, it’s Justin.”
“Oh! Hi.”
She sounds really surprised to hear from me. “Hey, I was just wondering when you wanted to arrange to meet up for our Friendsathon?” I chuckle.
“Oh," she still sounds pleasantly shocked. I guess I would be too if some random guy tried to become my best friend. "Of course. When’s best for you?”
I shrug. “Whenever. Maybe Friday? Trace is leaving that day, and I’ll be all lonely.”
“Trace?”
Oh yeah, I should have figured she wasn’t a fan. “My best friend. He lives with me, but he’s going to New York on Friday. Part of his plan to show he actually has other friends apart from me," I mutter, jokingly.
She laughs. “Ah, that old chestnut.”
“I know. Why won’t he just accept that I’m his hero?”
“Justin, I honestly don’t know whether you’re joking or not.”
I laugh. “So anyway, are you doing anything Friday?”
I hear a snort. “No.”
“Great, so do you wanna come over?”
She pauses. “Are you sure?”
What a question. “Of course. We’re friends right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” her voice falters slightly.
“Great, so I’ll see you Friday?”
I list off details of my address and before hanging up. I guess I can see why she’d be a little confused, I did sort of pounce on her. But I like her, I really do. I think we’re going to be friends for a long time.
------------------------
I put down the phone and turn to see Diane standing there, hand on hip, eyebrow raised. “Who was that?”
“Justin.”
"Justin who?"
Please, how many Justins are there? "The pop star."
Her eyes widen. “Justin? As in Justin Timberlake?”
I grin. “Maybe.”
“Oh my god! That’s so great!”
“Calm down Diane, we’re just friends,” I chuckle.
“Oh,” she looks somewhat deflated, but happy nonetheless.
“I’m going round to his house on Friday,” I squeal excitedly. Oh god, now he’s got me squealing. Note to self, don’t squeal excitedly, ever.
“Oh man, how are you going to be able to resist falling in love with that beautiful man?” Diane asks, grinning as she taking a bowl out in preparation for the popcorn she put in the microwave.
I smile at her, but bite my lip when she looks away. I’m beginning to ask myself that
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