Don't Be Annoying



He smiled violently. The girl swallowed her new discomfort. She wished the drink hadn't gone dry.

"Don't be annoying."

"But I just love you so much."

"You only love me because you had a drink."

"I loved you before I had the drink, but... I love you more after the drink."

Her body rest on top of his. She liked how it felt when they fit together, so she wiggled her curves until they filled all of his like a puzzle. The man was in a sour mood, not wanting to participate in her antics. He certainly did nothing to encourage the girl, but as the weight of her bore down on him, he smiled. She kissed him gently on the cheek, more passionately on the neck, but he was moved only briefly and settled back into his gloom.

"Why do you love me?" he asked the girl.

"I don't know. Because I do. I love you because you love me."

"So the only reason that you love me is because I love you?"

"That isn't the only reason, but I certainly couldn't love you like I do if you didn't love me."

They laid there like that for some time. The man twirled the girl's hair. He liked the way it felt between his fingers. One sad bedside lamp illuminated the small, gray hotel room. It was a newly updated room, but something about it disturbed the girl, so the man had made arrangements to change hotels the next day.

At 12am, the TV murmured quietly in the background. They were watching a movie, any movie that seemed tolerable, but this one starred a voluptuous Hollywood actress, one of the man's favorites. 

"What would you do if that girl started to flirt with you?"

"What's wrong with flirting?” said the man, “I think it's healthy."

"Fine. She tells you she loves you, she wants you, dreams about you, only. Would you get with her?"

The man considered her question thoughtfully, smiling to himself. "Yeah, I would want to get with her, but I would probably communicate that with you first."

"So you would come to me and say, I'm going to fuck her, is that OK?"

"I would want you to know how I was feeling. That I wanted to."

"Wanted to fuck her," the girl confirmed.

The man nodded while his eyes grew distant as if the thought had taken on life. He smiled violently. The girl swallowed her new discomfort. She wished the drink hadn't gone dry. 

"And what do you expect I would say after that?" 

The man shrugged. Clearly, it wasn't a big deal.

Perched on his chest, the girl chose her words one by one. "I would say, go ahead, but I get to have a guy of my choosing too." 

The man's features fell into a scowl. Now it was she smiling large, so large that the smile threatened to betray her, so she hid the stupid looking thing between the nook of the man's arm and the warm skin of his bare chest, burrowing her head deeper still, giggling, wiggling, trying to whisk away her thoughts.

"Who would you choose?" he asked.

She smelled his soft, firm skin and found it both familiar and far away, like sand or stones baked in the sun.

"Who would you choose?" He pulled her back to attention.

The girl caught her voice three times before shying away from an answer. She had someone on mind indeed and flushed at the thought. 

"I knew it," he said.

"Knew what?" The girl was only half clothed and the man's eyes took in the substance of her body. 

"I know who you're thinking," he echoed.

The girl paused. Rose colored guilt flashed across her cheeks, a heat which only confirmed her feelings. He'd even teased her about it earlier that day. Walters. She'd set her sights on him because of the way his uniform hugged his legs, the way his tall socks made him look taller. Walters. She'd pointed him out because the way he'd handled that bat; because she needed an outlet sitting there all alone. So it was Walters and it was harmless, but then she'd felt that tingle. 11 innings was too long to be alone with those thoughts.

"I knew it was something," said the man, "I knew it had to be something.” 

"No," the girl pulled at him, laughing, pleading, she wasn't sure, "it's stupid. It's all so stupid. He's... it's nothing. It's just a game."

Just a game. The man winced in pain as she yanked his bad arm. The game. He still wanted back in. It wasn't jealousy, Walters. Not how you'd think. She'd only called attention to the injury.

The man grew sullen and dismissive, "Good luck with that."

"Good luck?" She narrowed her eyes, "What? You don't think I could get him?"

The man said nothing. 

"And what makes you think you could get what's-her-face?"

"I have a way with women," he said, "I got you, didn't I?"

"And I don't have a way with men?"

The man didn't answer. The girl settled her head on his chest until vanity pricked her again. In the next moment, she overcame the man, straddling him, grinning savagely.

"I could get him if I wanted to," she hissed.

The man shook his head slow and deliberate. She bared her teeth at him and he marveled at how beautiful she was, how wild and untamed. Then she kissed him and he kissed her back. Her hands found a zipper and his found a soft breast and they lost themselves in the moment. 

When they were through the girl dressed quickly, never liking to lie there and cuddle. Within the sheets, she found the few items she'd had on before. The man rearranged his pillows and sat up slightly while he flipped through more channels, no longer interested in the mediocre movie with the voluptuous star.

He flipped to a different film now, a comedy, and soon they were both laughing. It felt good to laugh and they lay peaceful for some time before the girl sat up as if startled by something. She looked upset, comically so, he thought, but serious too. 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

After a moment and looking rather confused the girl shook out enough sense to admit it was nothing, though she was sure there had to be something. The drink had worn thin and her head felt heavy. Her mind was no longer aglow and instead felt muddled and dark, conscious again of the room. She listened to the hollow sound; a TV commercial bouncing 'round the corners, the strange way it snuck behind her. An armchair piled in clothes near the window sat in deep shadow. The thick curtain was drawn except for a sliver of light cast by the parking lot lamps. Outside was just a parking lot and yet the image was strong and repeating. Something about the way those lamps illuminated that small footpath to the woods. Something about that chair, this room. Damn that drink. It wore off too soon.

Feeling quite dejected she said, "I think I've forgotten what I'm supposed to be mad at you about." 

"Probably everything," he said. 

Everything. She couldn't imagine what he meant by that, but since he'd mentioned it, everything was a good weight off her shoulders. Her smile budded again, the anxiety fading. She looked positively giddy. The commercial was over, but the girl sat still, not wanting to turn away from the man.

"You're just the best thing ever," he said.


"Because you are. Look at you. You're so beautiful and you're the best thing ever."




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