A/N Thank you Kittygrl3 and C for reviewing this story, your feedback did not go unread, and I really appreciate reading your input, so thank you again.
This chapter mainly focuses on Filkins and what he does on a typical lonely afternoon. :P
Song suggestion for this chapter is; Lazy Bones by Green Day (although the song does have some strong language though).
Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I Don't Own Drillbit Taylor.
A Lonesome Afternoon -
Terry lay on his couch, his head on a pillow, arm hanging lazily over the side, staring mindlessly at the plasma screen t.v. in front of him...pretty much bored to death.
And not because he'd lost the remote hours ago, and had himself stuck watching a long, pointless, infomercial, but because he seriously didn't have anything better do.
At least, not without Ronnie around.
On a normal Sunday afternoon, the two of them would be hanging out, riding around town, preying on nerds, hitting on chicks, and grabbing a bite to eat at their favorite burger joint. But today, Ronnie had some lame 'family outing' to attend, which left Terry high and dry, watching t.v. in his living room all by himself.
He would've dug his cellphone out of his back pocket and called up some of his other buddies, but truthfully, he didn't have any. Other than Ronnie, Filkins didn't really have any other close friends.
Sure, he knew some guys. But he wasn't as close with them as he was with Ronnie. They were the type of guys to call for a night filled with partying and beer. Not the kind you could just call up and hang out with. Most of 'em were pretty boring too. They would just ramble on and on about their girlfriends, and 'lady problems'. Something he himself couldn't really relate to.
Yeah, Terry had a few chicks here and there, but they were only-for-the-moment deals. Never anything more. Most of them would get on his nerves within a matter of minutes, anyway. They were always way too chatty. Kept wanting to talk about 'feelings' and other pointless shit like that. And truth be told, he didn't need a girlfriend. Having one would require a lot of up-keep, something he really didn't have the time for.
Although now, on an afternoon as sucky as this, he kinda wished he did have a girlfriend. Someone to blow up his cell phone with texts, beg for him to take them out someplace nice, or make-out with on his couch. Hell, even having someone to nag at him for something stupid sounded like fun right now.
Anything would be better than sitting home alone, watching infomercials.
"URRRNNTTT!" Sounded the buzzer from the washroom.
Terry lazily lifted his head up from the couch pillow, none too excited about the fact that the dryer had finally finished its job with his clothes.
Since his parents had moved to Hong Kong, he'd had to start taking care of himself. From buying groceries and making dinner, to washing dishes and his own pair of underwear, he now did it all.
Grudgingly, of course, but he did it nonetheless.
Filkins slowly got up from his spot on the couch, prolonging his fate of folding and putting away nearly every article of clothing that he owned. Though he knew his fate was inevitable, if he didn't do his own laundry, no one else would. Still, he couldn't help stalling the matter.
When he finally made his way into the washroom, he immediately began unloading the dryer and carelessly tossing all the articles of clothing into a (more-or-less) clean hamper.
Other than the sound of the t.v. coming from the other room, the whole house was filled with silence. And it left Terry feeling kinda depressed. Just the other day, him and Ronnie were laughing like mad, cleaning up scattered red solo cups, empty beer cans, and other party trash around the house, trying to recover from the previous night's party.
Now look what he was doing.
Terry tossed the last article of clothing into the hamper (a sock it looked like), along with a little square piece of fabric softener he had put in the load. But not before holding up said fabric softener to his nose to sniff. It was pretty much the only thing he liked about doing the laundry; getting to smell the fresh scent the fabric softener left behind. It just smelled so damn good.
He hoisted the hamper up onto his shoulder to carry, and proceeded making his way down the hall and up the stairs to his room.
He paused on the steps for a minute when his foot came into contact with a small, hard object.
Although irritated at the sudden pain shooting through his foot, he was also curious as to what the hell the thing could possibly be. He thought for sure that him and Ronnie had cleaned everything up from the party yesterday.
He slowly removed his foot from it, revealing a small, silver ring.
How did that get there?
Must've been from one of the chicks at the party, he figured.
He stared at it, a brow raised, and bent down to pick it up, somehow managing to do so while balancing the hamper on his shoulder at the same time.
He turned the ring over in his hand, looking at it from all angles, and spotted an engraving on the inside of it.
Dakota, it read.
Terry's brows furrowed in thought.
Wait...did he read that right?
He looked it over once more, and sure enough, it said Dakota. And if he wasn't mistaken, the very ring he held in his hand belonged to none other than Dakota Westers; a chick he knew from school.
She was pretty hot too.
Blonde hair, a pretty face, nice body, the whole package.
He wondered where she'd been while she was at his house. He didn't remember seeing her at the party.
Filkins dismissed the thought after a few moments, then put the ring in his pocket and continued making his way upstairs.
It wasn't until he got in his room and started putting away his clothes that he realized how messy the rest of the room was. There were numerous items scattered all across the floor, including: a black hoodie, a pair of boots, an old pizza box, some CDs, candy wrappers, an old History essay (that was due weeks ago), and a pair of socks. Oh, and a pack of gum.
He'd forgotten that when he and Ronnie were cleaning up the house his room was off limits. Now he kinda wished that it wasn't. Because then it would be clean. And not a freakin' trash dump.
Terry groaned.
It wouldn't get picked up if he didn't do it.
It took him no more than five minutes to tidy up the place, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. After he tossed the old pizza box in the trash, he remembered the ring he had in his pocket, and quickly dug it out to take another look at it.
He absentmindedly wondered if she would want it back, or if she even realized that it was missing in the first place.
Other than the engraving on the inside, there wasn't really anything special about it anyway. It was just a plain silver band. Probably got it from her boyfriend or something though, 'cause really, who in the Hell would get their own name engraved on a ring?
It didn't matter to him though, he was just a little curious is all.
He set the ring down on his dresser; he'd decide what to do with it later.
He shuffled his way out his room and down the stairs.
He was getting kinda hungry, so he figured he'd head to the kitchen.
It shouldn't have been a surprise to discover that all the bowls and plates were dirty, but Terry was still shocked to see the stack of dishes in the sink, nearly a mile high.
"Shit..." he muttered to himself.
This day was going from bad to worse.
After loading up the dishwasher, Terry rummaged through the fridge in search of something to eat.
Finding nothing but ketchup, mustard, soda, a few slices of cheese, an expired half-gallon of milk, and a few tortilla wraps, he decided to just order a pizza.
Sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, Filkins waited impatiently for the food to arrive. Tapping his hands on the faux marbled counter surface, and bopping his head for no particular reason other than boredom.
After about five minutes, the doorbell rang.
Terry's head snapped up at the sound.
There was no way the Pizza man could be there that quick...Right? He'd only just ordered a few minutes ago.
Either way, he got up from his stool, and walked over to the front door. Which he quickly unlocked and carelessly flung open.
Not-so-shockingly, it wasn't the Pizza man.
In fact, it was another face that he had not been expecting to see for at least another day or so.
Standing no more than a few feet ahead of him, was Ronnie.
Damn, just the dude he wanted to see.
"Ronnie?" Terry tilted his head disbelievingly. "What are you doin' here? I thought you had a 'family outing' to attend."
Ronnie glanced behind himself at the silver SUV in the drive-way, and Terry leaned out the door just in time to spot Mrs. Lampanelli waving to the both of them as she pulled back out onto the road.
"Yeah, about that 'family outing'," Ronnie smirked, making air quotation marks with his fingers.
Terry grinned back at him, and quickly ushered him inside the house.
This was bound to be a hell of day with Ronnie in the house.
