Risky Business
"We know it's casual
It's cool we're just friends...
I don't wanna lead you on"
-2-
August 28, 2014
If you're a normal person, with weird friends, you have at least one pal who calls at weird hours in the day (or night).
The weird hours (in the day), represent the hours in which you're working. The weird hours (during the night), represent every single hour during the night.
With Chad, he thinks it's cool for me to have at least ten text messages for when I wake up in the morning. The kid hardly sleeps, and seems to send them every hour, on the hour.
Sometimes, they're little sarcastic remarks. Sometimes they're deep remarks about what he wants to do with his future (i.e. kill Zac Efron and buy a hockey rink).
I never reply to his text messages, and never say anything to him about them, but somehow, he knows that I get them. That's why he keeps on sending them, like a persistent pain in my butt.
This morning, however, he would literally know if I had received them.
- Text: From CDC (1:01 am) -
I h8 our friends.
- Text: From CDC (2:02 am) -
I think that the guy from Owl City is kind of hot.. Perhaps I should go gay or u should nab him?
- Text: From CDC (3:03 am) -
I h8 Jamie, Miley, David, and Miley's boi (sk8ter). We should kill 'em all.
- Text: From CDC (4:04 am) -
Every night in my dreams, I see u, I feel u. Celine Dion is nice.
- Text: From CDC (5:05 am) -
Srsly, I h8 our friends. We need to plan revenge on all of 'em.
- Text: From CDC (6:06 am) -
I'm making a plan for us to surprise our friends. Sound good?
- Text: From CDC (7:07 am) -
Watching the Firefly video. R they poisonous? We should kill our friends with fireflies.
- Text: From CDC (8:08 am) -
I have a plan!
- Text: From CDC (9:09 am) -
Meet me at Starbucks at 11 sharp. No tenth text for you.
One of the things that I've always admired about Chad and his texts is that he combines a certain amount of perfect vocabulary sprinkled in with horrendous abbreviations.
He's such a forty-year-old mother.
However, he is smart. He seems to hate our acquaintances as much as I do (for keeping up with the whole joking/rumor mill). And, he has a plan.
Chad's never been that creative with plans, or anything of the sort; so when I finally dragged myself out of bed, I assumed that it really did have to do with the dude from Owl City (who, quite honestly, I wouldn't mind dating), and a jar full of fireflies. In said case, I'd have to talk Chad out of it and buy him a caramel frap to wipe the pout off of his face.
Somehow, I finally managed to pull myself out of bed, and put on a decent outfit that would please the paparazzi.
Sometimes I feel like going all Lady Gaga on them to tick them off, but whenever I go through with that, I get a phone call from my mom. And in case you didn't know, phone calls from my mom are deathly, horribly long. Especially when you wear a red thong (that I had stole from said mother), over a pair of blue jeans. Moving on.
I settled on a pair of jeans and a red tank top with a little jean jacket over it. I then trudged through my dimly lit apartment, stumbling over my furry rug along the way, and made my way out the door.
When I arrived at Starbucks, it was exactly 11:07.
Chad was sitting at our usual table, two white chocolate mochas on it, leaning back in his chair, frowning.
Sue me for being late. Whether he knows it or not, it takes a lot of work to be a woman. And when you reach "that time" of the month, getting ready takes a little longer. Such as, you have to find a more comfortable bra, and ugly panties, and an un-nauseating perfume. (You get the gist.)
"I'm not going to say it." I didn't look him in the eye. I probably would've dumped my whole coffee all over him.
"Good riddance."
"You're moody." No shit, Sherlock.
"I'm a girl. I have every right to be." I shifted, uncomfortable on the wooden chair. I mean, this is Starbucks after all. Why couldn't we ever sit in the overstuffed armchairs for once. You know, the ones that look like the blown-up Thinking Chairs from Blues' Clues.
But no, best friend had to go to the uncomfy table (le sigh).
"Oh, is it your-" Before blue-eyes could say another word, I held up my hands and waved them in front of his face.
"If you say what you're about to say, Chad Dylan Cooper, I swear on your baby-makers that I will wedge them into a tree and-"
"I get it, Sonny." This time, he held up his hand, wanting me to stop. Just to please him, I took an overly-long, scalding sip of my mocha, praying that it would calm me down. All of a sudden, I was desiring an iced marble macchiato instead of what I had.
"So, you dragged me here." I plopped my drink down, and looked at my friend pointedly, and then I shifted on the seat again.
Seriously, who makes seats out of wood? It should be illegal. When I was in public school once upon a lifetime ago, I swear I came home from school every day with splinters in my butt. Illegal, I say.
"Right." Chad nodded.
That was all.
"You said that you have a plan to kill our friends?" I prodded, and Chad looked down at the table sheepishly.
"I hate them sometimes." He bit his lip, and fingered the cup in front of him. I nodded in agreement.
"So, your plan?"
"I just don't get why they think that we're perfect for each other." Chad, obviously, was either going to make a soul-stopping speech about annoying friends, or he was going to grumble about them and annoy me. "I mean, sure, our personalities are the yin and yang of each other. Your bubbly, I'm sarcastic." (Ahem, not at this moment.) "And our looks are like movie-couple looks. You know, I'm the blond, amazingly beautiful guy with blue eyes, and you're the ravishing brunette with brown orbs."
Ravishing? If I wasn't too busy waiting for Chad to make his point, I would've snorted.
"So, we need a plan." Chad stopped talking, and then he yawned.
Yep, today was his day to annoy me.
"You mean," I leaned across the table, "you don't have a plan, do you?"
Chad shook his head, confirming my original beliefs. Before I could yell at him, one of the waitresses, who must've been in her forties stopped right in front of our table.
"Can I get you two-"
Apparently, today was the day where you weren't allowed to finish a complete sentence.
"My," She looked adoringly between the two of us, "wouldn't you two make a beautiful couple."
And just like that, a plan popped into my mind.
"Ma'am," I ran my fingers through my hair, and then rested my head on my fist, looking up at the lady. Chad, in the meantime, was looking at me like I was going nuts. "Why do you think that we would make a lovely couple?"
"Well," The lady grinned, and Chad kicked me from underneath the table. I kicked him back.
Mature adults, my ass.
"I think that the two of you just compliment each other. When you frown, he frowns. When you smile, he smiles. Besides, you two look at each other so tenderly. And your looks are both beautiful. Say, if you had a child, it would be stunning. With your dimples and his behind…Oh, with your chest and his hair, your daughter would be a wonder." She gasped, clapped her hands together, and moseyed away.
Seeing as that she probably wouldn't be back for another ten minutes (she's probably off fantasizing about the 'lovely' couple whom she just met), I turned to Chad, who was gaping at me.
"S-Sonny?"He looked scared."What was that?"
"Chad," I leaned across the table, grinning all over myself. If he went along with it, this plan would probably work. "How would you feel about going out with me?"
A few locks of his blond hair fell into his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away. Then, he continued to stare at me incredulously.
"But we're just friends. I thought that you hated our friends because they wanted us to be more than friends. And I thought that you just wanted to be just friends, instead of more than friends? I thought that we were best friends. But maybe, do you want to make different friends, because I-"
"Chad, say 'friends' one more time and I'm going to kick you. And no, I do not want to go all Jonas Brothers on you and be more than 'just friends', but a plan popped into my mind."
"So that's why you want to date me?"
His voice was unusually shaky, and I immediately felt bad.
The poor boy needed details.
"No, I don't want to date you, date you Chad. I want to fake date you."
Chad looked from his coffee, to me, then back to his coffee.
So, he was going to be that way.
"Everyone wants us to get together. All of our friends, all of our family members. But they don't actually expect us to get together. What I'm saying is, we should make a plan and pretend that we're dating – that we're madly in love with each other, and fool them all. Instead of them constantly joking about us, we could be using them as our entertainment. Please tell me that you get what I'm saying." I finally managed to clamp my mouth shut and let out a sigh.
At first, there was a blank look on Chad's face. Then, he broke out into a huge grin, leaned across the table, and enveloped me in a huge hug.
"I think that, Sonny Munroe, that's the smartest thing I've heard since the doctor announced that my niece was born."
For Chad, that was saying a lot.
"So, you're not weirded out by the plan?" I sat back, taking his expression in. He seemed calm.
"We won't have to kiss or anything like that, will we?" I rolled my eyes.
PDAs have always grossed me out, and everyone around me knows that.
"No."
"Good."
"So-"
"So, I think that we need to go back to my place, and hash this plan out."
Lyrics: Jonas, N; Jonas, K P; Jonas, J – Just Friends by Jonas Brothers
A/N: And there you have it! First of all, I would like to apologize for this story's plot forming so slowly. I know that it's not exactly "Cure for the Common Man" – so thank you for putting up with me. And, speaking of "Cure" – if any of you have read it, I have a one-shot coming up soon that's based off of it. I'm really excited about it!
Last but not least, to everyone who reads this, to everyone who has alerted and reviewed, from the bottom of my heart- thank you! I love to hear your thoughts. The next chapter will be up soon.