Lip Rings and First Dates

It started about the first weekend that we went out on a real date. Of course we ended up in his stupid, smelly, and really ugly (he kept insisting that I was just jealous) pickup truck, making out. It was, like, totally mandatory, right?

So anyways, it happened some time around after I commented on how horrible his taste in music was and way after I explained to him that if he drove any slower, I was pretty sure we would be going in reverse. Some stupid band that I didn't know, but that he insisted was great, really great, was playing softly, practically off. That was our compromise. If I had to listen to his bullshit music, then it was going to be at a volume that I decided. And since he explained to me that off was not a volume, we had settled to playing it very, very softly.

See? And people are always telling me that I'm uncooperative. Suck it, Roger.

Back on point though, there we were, totally making out. And I was mostly focused on the fact that it was completely different than anything that I had done with Jecca. Sure, it was still exciting, like it was with her, but that was about all the similarities that it held. Fanboy was…well…nervous. Jecca was straightforward. He kept hesitating; she always wanted more. There was no guilt with him; there were only questions that deserved answers with her.

It was really nice too, kissing Fanboy. Really, really nice. Until it happened.

He totally touched it. He totally, like, messed with it and it was all I could do not to shove him away.

But then he kept doing it. As if it interested him or something. Not that it was hurting me or anything. It was more or less just annoying me to no end.

"What the eff is up with you and my effing lip ring?" I complained slightly, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "Seriously?"

"What?" He looked like he used to then, back before I got sent away, when he was still a little puppet that was just begging me to toy with him. He always walked around with that newfound confidence now that about made me want to bash my own skull in. I liked him better when he needed me to tell him what to do, when he was waiting around for instruction. "What'd I do wrong?"

He was clearly out of his element now, as the closest he had come to any of this was when stupid Dina Jurgens kissed him or whatever. I mainly let that one go because a) we weren't together technically, b) why the hell would I care, and c) it got his stupid little fantasy out of the way at least. At least.

"You keep flicking the back of it with your effing tongue. It's just a effing lip ring." I did that thing then, where I rubbed against it with my own tongue, as if to show him that it wasn't anything. I mean, yeah, it's effing awesome, but that's just because I'm effing awesome. Duh. "So chill the eff out about it."

"I didn't…okay." He was looking at me funny then, as if confused. "Sorry."

"Whatever."

The moment was lost and I just shifted in my seat before messing with the stereo.

"God, could you pick a shittier band?"

"You know, Kyra, you could try just being thankful towards me."

"For what?"

"You know, for having a truck so that we can go places."

"Why? So that I can sit here and ride around with an old lady? God, I feel like Miss Daisy's driving me!"

Rolling his eyes, he shifted in his own seat before looking up at his house, which we were parked in front of.

"Did you want me to just take you home then?"

"No," I said, still not looking at him.

"Then did you want to go somewhere?"

"No."

"Did you…want to go into the house or whatever?"

Or whatever. I snorted, wishing I still had my bangs to hide behind. The effing Bang of Doom were the shit.

"No," I told him, annoyed once more though it had more to do with my shaved head at the moment than anything else.

"Then what exactly do you want to do, Kyra?"

Then I got annoyed with him for not only hounding me, but also turning the fact that we were bored back around on me. As if it was my fault that he touched my freaking lip ring. God.

"Don't smoke in my car."

I glared at him before slowly dropping my pack of cigarettes back in my pocket. "Alright then, preacher boy, what do you want to do?"

"Obviously not mess with your lip ring again."

"You know, you sure make a crummy first date."

"Oh, as if you're so much better."

"I am. I totally am. No wonder no one else ever hangs around you."

"Because I see you crawling in friends, Kyra."

"I am!"

"Yeah, only because they're too stoned to realize how much you suck."

"You-" I stopped myself though, remembering suddenly that he might have looked like old Fanboy for a moment, but he wasn't. He was all confident and stuff now. Ugh. Not to mention, I had a sinking feeling that the fight was mostly my fault and that it was obvious.

After taking a breath, I leaned back in my seat before glancing at him again. "Are we seriously going to fight right now? On our first date? Because-"

"You keep calling it that."

"Calling it what?"

"The first."

"It is the first, numb nuts."

"No. I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"You know," he began before shrugging. He was nervous again. "That time that we went out and, like, talked about Schemata and then we went to your house, but I didn't know it was your house, and went out to the pond and you were all upset that they drained it. Remember? You were real upset and I thought it was cool that you cared so much. And then you started telling me all that…crap about your sister that didn't exist? And then I told you that cigarettes could kill you, only I said it cooler or something. That I was allergic to cancer or something funny like that. And then you laughed, but I didn't know. And then I told you had a curfew and you took me home. Don't you remember?"

He was talking, but I wasn't really listening to him. Sometimes he just rambled and it really only served to bore me. He usually did it when he was apprehensive about something. He probably thought that I was about to reject him or his idea of our first date or whatever he was going on about. Bleh.

"Kyra?"

"Yeah, Fanboy, I effing remember, alright? And no, I didn't think of that as our first date. What difference does it make?"

"Nothing. It just, you know, kept us from fighting. Talking about it."

"Sometimes we could try just not talking," I told him then, which shut him up. It also gave me a chance to think.

I really didn't want to go home. Roger would be all over me, if he knew that I was out. I was supposed to be grounded, after all, considering the whole arrested thing. Lucky for me, Roger went out with friends or something, a thing that he had apparently done a lot of while he had me locked up in the loony bin (the jerk), so that left me home alone and a chance to gain his trust…or to finally go out on a date with my (sort of) boyfriend. I mean, honestly, what option did he think I was going to choose?

"I'm sorry that I touched your lip ring," Fanboy finally said. He had no doubt been sweating it for the whole five minutes we weren't speaking. The wuss. "I didn't think it was-"

I said his name then, which always got him to shut up.

"What?"

"Just shut up."

"'kay."

I didn't really want to not go home either, if that made sense. I mean, I wanted to go home and just…hangout alone for awhile. And I guess, yeah, review the date in my head and see if it really was good or not. I had a hard time judging things when they were happening. And I mean, it was kind of hard considering Fanboy was in constant need of my approval, or else he'd think that I wasn't having a good time or that I hated him or something like that.

"I didn't mean that about you not having friends or whatever," he kept up after a minute or two. God, was he serious? "I mean, you have more than me, I know, so it's really not that-"

"Donnie, seriously, knock it off."

Two names in a row. Now I made him angry. He knew that I knew that he hated his name and any form of it. The first time was a warning. Now I was just torturing him.

"I'm not pissed at you, so just shut the eff up, alright?"

"Whatever."

But it's not like I wanted to go into his house either. Because then I would have to see his mother and his stupid sister and meet his stepfather. Bleh. I knew I'd have to get used to it if we were going to…date (and get used to calling it that), but I also knew that I could probably get off on avoiding that in general for a few weeks, if not months.

"If it's not the friends or the lip ring, is it just me?" He could not keep quiet. My God. "Are you having a bad time? I'm sorry. I didn't think the date was that bad. I mean the movie was pretty much crap, but we did have fun. Didn't we? I thought-"

"What the effing hell do I have to do to get you to shut the eff up?" I was finally at my breaking point. God, he was annoying the eff out of me. "I mean, God, do I have to constantly throw myself at you for you to be quiet?"

"What? N-"

"Do I have to constantly remind you that I freaking like you? Like, God, are we in the seventh effing grade? Is that it?"

"Ky-"

"I had fun, okay, on the stupid date. And yes, it pissed me off that you wouldn't stop messing with my lip ring, but I'll get the hell over it. Or you will. Or whatever."

"I don't-"

"And yes, I have more friends with you. And yes, they are stoned a lot. But who the eff cares? Huh? Do you?"

"N-No, I only-"

"So cut the bull, alright? God, I had a good time. You had a good time. We both had a good time. Can we not just chill for a second after having a good time? Can we not just sit here and listen to the shit that you mistake for effing music and just take a breath? Huh, Fanboy? Huh?"

He was quiet, finally really quiet, for a full minute. Then he turned to me with a big grin on his face.

"So you had a good time then?"

"Ugh." I couldn't help it as I started to buckle my seat belt. "Just take me home. Date's over."

He was happy then though and my bad mood couldn't stop him. God, I think he was grinning all the way to my house. And try as I might to stay angry with him the entire way, I couldn't help it that eventually my scowl faded and I was left just sitting there, having freaking Miss Daisy drive me practically, listening to a bunch of guys that can hardly play their effing instruments on the radio, and actually, believe it or not, grinning along with him.

I think I'm losing my effing mind.

"I'll, uh, call you tomorrow then," Fanboy said as we pulled up to my house. He knew better than to walk me to my door. I could see the light on the living room and knew Roger was home. I was busted. "Or you can call me. Or-"

"Goodnight, Fanboy." I leaned over and kissed him quickly before giving him that devilish little grin that always made him uncomfortable. You know, the one where I tilted my lip ring just right and looked down right sexy if I do say so myself (which I effing do). "See you tomorrow."

"See me? Are we going to-"

"Bye!" I hopped out of the car then, because if I knew anything, it was to always keep him guessing. Though in that case, it was partially because I didn't know how I'd manage to sneak out and meet up with him in that moment either. Oh, well. Those sorts of things always seemed to work out in the end anyhow.

He waited for me to get in the door, all gallant and shit. God, he was such an effing dork. But he was still my effing dork and sometimes that's all that matters.

Meh, I was in the mood for some Fanboy and Goth Girl and too lazy to actually get out of bed to find one of the books to read. So I wrote about them instead. And yeah, I know that the tense in the book is present tense and I usually try to follow whatever the book has, but it's so freaking hard to write in present tense for me. Not because I can't, obviously I can, I do when it's necessary, but it's not fun. I'm mainly a past tense kinda person. I think most people are. Ha ha.