I's Hungry
Right, this one here's the next chapter, and I'm getting this weird feeling that the novel is going to continue being written long after november. I've got... *counts* four more sections to go, and this one I'm on now is slightly more than half the word count so far. I was gonna end it today, but James and Julia wouldn't let me, they wanted some time together before this murder I mentioned at the start of the section. (Bridge Kanulu XII, on November 12th. The end of it.) And yeah. They're basically the whole update today, which is quite fluffy, and James gets awkward, then normal, then happy, then angry, then happy, then happy-er, then paranoid, then happy, then drunk. And happy. He's slightly horny the whole way through, only I'm not letting that show. I think Julia's mainly happy. Speaking of Julia, I have recently realized something, and I unashamedly admit that I've based Julia on my first girlfriend, or what I thought she was like before she cheated on me. Because of that, I've decided to go back and make her five foot tall, and fourteen. She's not going to grow anymore, which'll be funny, because I'm going to make James end up about 6'10". Since his dad's only 5'7", His dead Mum had to be tall. OK, so she was twenty feet tall and died when she walked into a powerline, OK? All the height comparisons are actually accurate, I used my little brother. Aren't you guys lucky, getting all these extra facts, just because you're reading on my LJ? Wonder if I should put these bits in the book.
On another note, I sat my english exam today! There's three papers, each meant to take an hour, and we've got three hours to do it in, which is nice. I had a demon shot (very concentrated energy, tastes really bad, but does the job) right beforehand, and I was BUZZING. I did the easiest paper first, and wrote answers maybe twice as long as they wanted. Guess how long it took me? Two... hours. Then there's two essays I have to write, and neither were on topics I'd prepared for. I chose the one I knew best and did that one first, and if I get an excelence I'll be over the moon, then whipped off the second one in about twenty minutes, for which I hope I pass. I finished it about twenty seconds before the lady walked to the front and said time's up. I think my pen nib caught fire for a bit, but the flow of ink was so fast it put it out. And I've run out of wool for my knitting and can't buy anymore, because there's a birthday and Christmans coming up. And when there's eight members of your family, Christmas can be expensive. I'm buying a couple for friends too. Well... semi-buying, semi-making. I wrote at least two thousand words before I even got started on my NaNo today, and I wrote a lot of NaNo. I'm up to 32,735 words, and therefore only about five hundred away from the goal for the day after tomorrow. Here's today's.
Our lips touch, and my pocket beeps, at the same moment. She springs away, as if she was as nervous as me. I reach into my pocket, pull my phone out and toss it over by the bike. It beeps again. I pull Julia back towards me, and she seems happy enough to come. We kiss.
When the phone rings, I ignore it completely. I’m too busy kissing this prettiest, fiercest, most dangerous Warrior of Bridge Kanulu.
* * *
We arrive back at HQ about two hours after we left. Julia seems kind of awkward going back into the party. So do I, but we have to, otherwise what speculation there already is would blow way out of proportion.
I walk behind her back into the basement party room. There’s more dancing going on, and no-one seems to have noticed out absence. She says ‘bye to me, kind of awkwardly, and goes off onto the dance floor, acting like she never left it. I look around for Joan - he’s over by the stereo, chatting to Jonathan, but he’s grinning too much for the joke just to be something he’s telling Jonathan, who looks like he’s about to go to sleep again. I walk over. After all, I’ve got nothing better to do.
“Hey, Joan. Hey, Jonathan.”
“Hey James,” says Joan. Jonathan mumbles something and tries to lift a bottle of something that smells strong to his lips. He fails.
“Giss a hand, James?” I lift the bottle out of his hands, pour some into an empty one on the stereo and give it to him.
“Jamesh, yer a mircle worker, litititle bud.” I hand Joan the full bottle. His eyes are twinkling. I thought that only happened in Harry Potter books. Jonathan takes a swig of his almost empty bottle and Joan takes a swig of his slightly more full one. He offers it to me.
“Naw, I don’t want any. Thanks, though.”
“You didn’t drink your shandy, either, James, you haven’t had anything.”
“Yeah, well… It’s harder to drive with a passenger.” There’s no harm in that. He knows I left with Julia. The last text he sent me was “I’ll let you two get on with it.” Get on with what he didn’t say, but I’ll have to put him straight on that, as soon as we lose Jonathan.
“Hey, Jonathan, there’s an unguarded bottle of rum on that table over there.” I point across the dance floor. Jonathan perks up a little, carefully props his bottle on top of the stereo, where Joan quickly grabs it and wipes the bottom dry, then manages to get to his feet and stagger in the direction I’d pointed. I sit where he’d been, next to Joan, and we watch him. He bumps into someone I don’t know, who steadies him, laughing, and gets him moving again.
“Is there really a bottle of rum?”
“I’ve no idea.” Jonathan falls over, and starts crawling. That’s determination. I’ve spotted Julia. She’s dancing by herself about five feet from the crawling figure, who’s still wavering.
“So, who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Julia. She says she’s helping Jedediah. She did the signatures on my cards.”
“Match made in heaven, mate. She supplies you with forged papers, and, using those forged papers, you supply her with adrenaline-causing high-speed rides which you enjoy as well. I’m not gonna ask.” I know he’ll’ve been drinking all night, but he doesn’t sound like it. It takes me a moment to figure out what he means.
“We only kissed, Joan.”
“Well, that’s something. I don’t really know her, but she’s probably in your phone. Check.” I hadn’t thought of that. I pull it out of my pocket and start scrolling through contacts.
Judah Joel, intimidation, 0279648755
Judy Joel, intimidation (better than her brother!), 0298518204
Julia James, forgery, 0227400072
“It is a match made in heaven, James, she’s got your name! Sure it was just kissing?” He nudges me with his elbow and does his best leer. I grimace.
“That’s all it was, Joan. Sheesh.” He chuckles, and rustles my hair. It seems like it’s been ages since he did that.
“Aw, y’know I’m only joking, James.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, what time is it?” He checks his watch.
“Almost eight. You getting tired or something?”
“Nah. Hey, it’s my party, ‘course I’m not tired. I was just wondering.” My explanation is too long. He looks at me, then, I guess, figures I’m just thinking about something else… I look for Julia again. It’s easy. I can feel her gaze on me.
She’s still dancing by herself, in the middle of the dance floor. She motions with her head, and I lever myself up against the wall.
“I gotta go.”
“Your lady commands you, huh? You sure know how to pick ‘em, James.”
“Shut up.”
“Go on, then, you have your orders.” He grins.
“Shut up!”
He laughs at me, but I’m already gone. I reach Julia in about half a second. She’s swaying to the music, which is some type of pop. “Do you dance?”
“A little.”
“Go on, then. Show us your moves.” I start copying her swaying motions, moving my hips and shoulders. She laughs at me too. I stop.
“No, no, c’mon, look, like this. Oh hang on, the songs finishing.” It was too. The beat had slowed down, and the singer was repeating the same line over and over and over. There’s a gap in between songs, and suddenly there’s some slow music. What Dad’s dad would have danced to, I figure. Julia looks a bit surprised, and I whip my head around to stare at the stereo.
Joan’s got his hand at the controls. I’m not surprised. I bring my head around to Julia, planning to ask if she wanted to sit this one out, but she’s grinning, so I grin as well, and say, in my best formal voice, “Fair lady, may I have the honor of this dance?” She giggles a little too loud, so I may have overdone the voice .
“You may.” She steps closer to me, and I put one hand behind her back and hold hers with the other. She’s got a hand stretched up onto my shoulder I think it’s meant to be in the large of my back, but that would probably be really, really uncomfortable. We start to sway, our bodies pressed together, from halfway up our thighs to halfway up our chests, well… halfway up my thighs to halfway up my chest, and from just under her hips to her shoulders. Standing so close to her - not sitting or lying, like I was before - she’s so tiny. She looks almost vulnerable. Not quite, since I can still feel the strength in her. We’re turning in circles, locked together, swaying from side to side.
When we’ve turned a hundred and eighty degrees, I stare over her head at Joan, who’s grinning and tapping his hand on the armrest in time with the music. I glare and mouth, “I’ll get you,” at him.
He makes his angel face. What a versatile face. Then I’ve turned too far and I can’t see him anymore.
Julia’s hand comes off my shoulder, and slides around me instead, so we’ve kind of changed positions. I guess it must’ve been pretty uncomfortable stretching it up that far. Her shoulder’s the better part of a foot below mine. I don’t mind. It’s it easier to hold her to me this way. She leans her head against the top of my chest, so her beautiful blonde hair is just under my chin, and if I look down I get a faceful. I feel her jaw move. She must be mouthing at Joan. Oh god, what’s that conversation like? We keep turning and her jaw stops moving. I hug her with the arm behind her back, and feel the thin band of her bra strap. She hugs me back. I wonder why I feel such a connection with her. Ah well. I do. That’s enough.
Joan swims back into my vision. He’s buzzed up to the side of the dance floor, and watching us. We have a mouthed conversation.
“What’d she say?”
“She said thanks for the music.”
“She did not. Liar.” He starts buzzing around the side of the dance floor to keep me in sight.
“She did too.”
“Go away. You annoy me.” I hear his snort, over the music, and he stops moving. I run Julia’s small back. My hand is almost as long as her back is wide.
“You like this music?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s kinda nice.” I snort a little, and wonder what it sounded like to her, with her ear pressed to my chest.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, just something I said to Joan just earlier.”
“Whatever. I reckon it’s kinda funny how he put this on. I wonder what he’ll put on next.”
“This one’s pretty long, I dunno if there’ll be a next, it might go forever.” She snorts this time.
“It’s finishing now. You can tell. It started with just low brass, and it’s back to just the low brass now.” I give a double take.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She snorts again, but she’s right. The instruments drop off until there’s just one, going through the main theme, and then it stops, and we break apart. It feels kinda cold. We both turn to the stereo, and there’s Joan again. He puts on a fast rock song, and I’m disappointed. It means I don’t get to spend another song holding Julia. Or so I think. Julia’s mouth opens…
“Conga line!” She grabs my hands and plants them firmly on her waist. I feel someone else’s hands grab mine from behind, and then I’m tugged forward as Julia starts dancing forwards, kicking legs out, kind of jumping. The line kind of judders to a start, and we start jumping around the outside of the dance floor. We almost trip over Jonathan, who’s finally made it across to the other side of the dance floor, and is still crawling. Maybe he stopped to dance? Or… jerk up and down on hands and knees. And fall over. Which he does now. The line jumps over him, and he must have kept crawling afterwards, single-mindedly after that rum, because he’s not there next time we go past.
There’s less people actually dancing, and more in the conga line, so eventually, Julia actually catches up to the last person in the line, and grabs them around the waist. The twenty or so people still dancing are fully encircled in our jumping, kicking, dancing ring. I can see Joan videoing the whole thing on his phone. It must look pretty cool. Julia lets go of the person in front of her, and we snake around the room, some people swigging down drinks as we pass the long table. Who cares who they were? Mine now.
Joan leaves the stereo alone for the next song, and it throws up one of those songs that are just a whole load of white noise with a beat. I can’t get into them, even though I’ve got about twenty on my computer.
The conga line dissolves, and I look at Julia. My hands are still on her waist. I raise my eyebrows. Is there any possible way we could dance to this? She smiles at the thought, and shakes her head, then jerks it at the table where Jonathan’s now sitting, looking kind of depressed, and very drunk. Nah, it’s absolutely impossible, and the people who are still on the dance floor are absolutely insane, and a few billion brain cells short of average. Let’s go sit over there, with this drunken guy who has cause to throttle you if he was sober enough to lift his hand, or remembers who you are, or even what you said anyway. The non-verbal stuff’s fun, so I nod, once, and hold up a finger. Yeah, OK, but one thing to do first. I go and grab a bottle of rum from the middle of a table full of unconscious tattooed Warriors who all must be in intimidation and insurance, and we take it over to Jonathan.
“Wrong table, mate,” I say, putting it down in front of him and sitting down. Julia sits beside me. Jonathan immediately looks happier, and grabs for the bottle, which is suddenly on its side, glugging the strong liquid onto the already sticky table, rolling towards the edge. I pick it up for him, and put it straight in his hand. He tips it onto his chin.
“How’ve you been tonight, Jonathan?” asks Julia.
“Orright,” He mutters, pouring some of the rum onto his shirt.
“How’s your head?”
“Orright” He overcorrects, with the bottle, and it goes in his eye and nose instead. He stops the pour quickly, and curses, astonishingly fluently and clearly.
“Sure? You might have some rum on your brain right now, I think.” He tries to snort and ends up in a coughing fit.
“S’orright, don’ wor’bou’t.”
“OK, if you say so. Can I have some?” Jonathan hands over the bottle, which he hasn’t actually managed to drink anything out of yet, and Julia tips a little into her mouth.
How do they know each other so well? With the typical paranoia of the newly in love, I hadn’t considered that the conversation so far might well indicate only one previous meeting. Did they used to go out? Oh my God, what if they still go out? Have I been kissing Jonathan’s girl? Would Julia do that? Well, I don’t really know her all that well myself yet, I mean, how long’ve I known her? Maybe three hours, tops. Seems like longer. Maybe I’m just today’s thing, and then she’ll b Jonathan’s again tonight? I try to picture Julia and Jonathan together, and the image comes all too easily. My thoughts are speeding up, and my worry increasing. Right when I’m about to draw the conclusion that they’ve been going out several years and are, in fact, about to get engaged, and leave them to each other with as good a will as I could manage, Julia slips her arm around my shoulder.
“Something wrong, James?” She strokes my cheek with the back of her hand, and sweeps away all the thoughts I’d been having, and all the thoughts I’d been about to have, too. In fact, all thought.
“Nah, everything’s fine.” Except I want to kiss her again, to celebrate that I was wrong. “I’m wondering what rum tastes like, though.
She passes me the bottle, and I pass it back. She looks up at me, baffled.
“That’s not what I meant.” Comprehension dawns, and she grins.
“Ooh, Mr. Suave, aren’t we?” She tips some into her mouth, and draws my lips to hers. It tastes nice. I decide, after the third kiss, that this is the only way to drink rum. We find a bottle of wine, and try that as well. Gin’s good too, and so’s whisky. Even beer tastes good, drinking it like this. Vodka, at least the type at my birthday party, just tastes of Julia’s lipstick, but that’s alright. After a few mouthfuls of that, though, it’s getting a little hard to walk in a straight line, so I just sit down, pull Julia on top of me - she’s wavering a little, too - and kiss her without the booze. She tastes just as good.
What think you? Cute, n'est-ce pas?
For those of you who haven't been reading along as I update, and can't be bothered going through them all, I'm going to put up the entire manuscript so far. There's a couple of changes in it, so any of my avid readers (I love you all!) with a spare hour or five up their sleeve, you can read it too. It's in the next entry. I was gonna put it in this one one, but LJ tells me it's too long to post.
edit: I can't! LJ won't let me! The manuscript was too long, and then half the manuscript was too long, and then A THIRD of the manuscript was too long! And then I gave up.
On another note, I sat my english exam today! There's three papers, each meant to take an hour, and we've got three hours to do it in, which is nice. I had a demon shot (very concentrated energy, tastes really bad, but does the job) right beforehand, and I was BUZZING. I did the easiest paper first, and wrote answers maybe twice as long as they wanted. Guess how long it took me? Two... hours. Then there's two essays I have to write, and neither were on topics I'd prepared for. I chose the one I knew best and did that one first, and if I get an excelence I'll be over the moon, then whipped off the second one in about twenty minutes, for which I hope I pass. I finished it about twenty seconds before the lady walked to the front and said time's up. I think my pen nib caught fire for a bit, but the flow of ink was so fast it put it out. And I've run out of wool for my knitting and can't buy anymore, because there's a birthday and Christmans coming up. And when there's eight members of your family, Christmas can be expensive. I'm buying a couple for friends too. Well... semi-buying, semi-making. I wrote at least two thousand words before I even got started on my NaNo today, and I wrote a lot of NaNo. I'm up to 32,735 words, and therefore only about five hundred away from the goal for the day after tomorrow. Here's today's.
Our lips touch, and my pocket beeps, at the same moment. She springs away, as if she was as nervous as me. I reach into my pocket, pull my phone out and toss it over by the bike. It beeps again. I pull Julia back towards me, and she seems happy enough to come. We kiss.
When the phone rings, I ignore it completely. I’m too busy kissing this prettiest, fiercest, most dangerous Warrior of Bridge Kanulu.
* * *
We arrive back at HQ about two hours after we left. Julia seems kind of awkward going back into the party. So do I, but we have to, otherwise what speculation there already is would blow way out of proportion.
I walk behind her back into the basement party room. There’s more dancing going on, and no-one seems to have noticed out absence. She says ‘bye to me, kind of awkwardly, and goes off onto the dance floor, acting like she never left it. I look around for Joan - he’s over by the stereo, chatting to Jonathan, but he’s grinning too much for the joke just to be something he’s telling Jonathan, who looks like he’s about to go to sleep again. I walk over. After all, I’ve got nothing better to do.
“Hey, Joan. Hey, Jonathan.”
“Hey James,” says Joan. Jonathan mumbles something and tries to lift a bottle of something that smells strong to his lips. He fails.
“Giss a hand, James?” I lift the bottle out of his hands, pour some into an empty one on the stereo and give it to him.
“Jamesh, yer a mircle worker, litititle bud.” I hand Joan the full bottle. His eyes are twinkling. I thought that only happened in Harry Potter books. Jonathan takes a swig of his almost empty bottle and Joan takes a swig of his slightly more full one. He offers it to me.
“Naw, I don’t want any. Thanks, though.”
“You didn’t drink your shandy, either, James, you haven’t had anything.”
“Yeah, well… It’s harder to drive with a passenger.” There’s no harm in that. He knows I left with Julia. The last text he sent me was “I’ll let you two get on with it.” Get on with what he didn’t say, but I’ll have to put him straight on that, as soon as we lose Jonathan.
“Hey, Jonathan, there’s an unguarded bottle of rum on that table over there.” I point across the dance floor. Jonathan perks up a little, carefully props his bottle on top of the stereo, where Joan quickly grabs it and wipes the bottom dry, then manages to get to his feet and stagger in the direction I’d pointed. I sit where he’d been, next to Joan, and we watch him. He bumps into someone I don’t know, who steadies him, laughing, and gets him moving again.
“Is there really a bottle of rum?”
“I’ve no idea.” Jonathan falls over, and starts crawling. That’s determination. I’ve spotted Julia. She’s dancing by herself about five feet from the crawling figure, who’s still wavering.
“So, who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Julia. She says she’s helping Jedediah. She did the signatures on my cards.”
“Match made in heaven, mate. She supplies you with forged papers, and, using those forged papers, you supply her with adrenaline-causing high-speed rides which you enjoy as well. I’m not gonna ask.” I know he’ll’ve been drinking all night, but he doesn’t sound like it. It takes me a moment to figure out what he means.
“We only kissed, Joan.”
“Well, that’s something. I don’t really know her, but she’s probably in your phone. Check.” I hadn’t thought of that. I pull it out of my pocket and start scrolling through contacts.
Judah Joel, intimidation, 0279648755
Judy Joel, intimidation (better than her brother!), 0298518204
Julia James, forgery, 0227400072
“It is a match made in heaven, James, she’s got your name! Sure it was just kissing?” He nudges me with his elbow and does his best leer. I grimace.
“That’s all it was, Joan. Sheesh.” He chuckles, and rustles my hair. It seems like it’s been ages since he did that.
“Aw, y’know I’m only joking, James.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, what time is it?” He checks his watch.
“Almost eight. You getting tired or something?”
“Nah. Hey, it’s my party, ‘course I’m not tired. I was just wondering.” My explanation is too long. He looks at me, then, I guess, figures I’m just thinking about something else… I look for Julia again. It’s easy. I can feel her gaze on me.
She’s still dancing by herself, in the middle of the dance floor. She motions with her head, and I lever myself up against the wall.
“I gotta go.”
“Your lady commands you, huh? You sure know how to pick ‘em, James.”
“Shut up.”
“Go on, then, you have your orders.” He grins.
“Shut up!”
He laughs at me, but I’m already gone. I reach Julia in about half a second. She’s swaying to the music, which is some type of pop. “Do you dance?”
“A little.”
“Go on, then. Show us your moves.” I start copying her swaying motions, moving my hips and shoulders. She laughs at me too. I stop.
“No, no, c’mon, look, like this. Oh hang on, the songs finishing.” It was too. The beat had slowed down, and the singer was repeating the same line over and over and over. There’s a gap in between songs, and suddenly there’s some slow music. What Dad’s dad would have danced to, I figure. Julia looks a bit surprised, and I whip my head around to stare at the stereo.
Joan’s got his hand at the controls. I’m not surprised. I bring my head around to Julia, planning to ask if she wanted to sit this one out, but she’s grinning, so I grin as well, and say, in my best formal voice, “Fair lady, may I have the honor of this dance?” She giggles a little too loud, so I may have overdone the voice .
“You may.” She steps closer to me, and I put one hand behind her back and hold hers with the other. She’s got a hand stretched up onto my shoulder I think it’s meant to be in the large of my back, but that would probably be really, really uncomfortable. We start to sway, our bodies pressed together, from halfway up our thighs to halfway up our chests, well… halfway up my thighs to halfway up my chest, and from just under her hips to her shoulders. Standing so close to her - not sitting or lying, like I was before - she’s so tiny. She looks almost vulnerable. Not quite, since I can still feel the strength in her. We’re turning in circles, locked together, swaying from side to side.
When we’ve turned a hundred and eighty degrees, I stare over her head at Joan, who’s grinning and tapping his hand on the armrest in time with the music. I glare and mouth, “I’ll get you,” at him.
He makes his angel face. What a versatile face. Then I’ve turned too far and I can’t see him anymore.
Julia’s hand comes off my shoulder, and slides around me instead, so we’ve kind of changed positions. I guess it must’ve been pretty uncomfortable stretching it up that far. Her shoulder’s the better part of a foot below mine. I don’t mind. It’s it easier to hold her to me this way. She leans her head against the top of my chest, so her beautiful blonde hair is just under my chin, and if I look down I get a faceful. I feel her jaw move. She must be mouthing at Joan. Oh god, what’s that conversation like? We keep turning and her jaw stops moving. I hug her with the arm behind her back, and feel the thin band of her bra strap. She hugs me back. I wonder why I feel such a connection with her. Ah well. I do. That’s enough.
Joan swims back into my vision. He’s buzzed up to the side of the dance floor, and watching us. We have a mouthed conversation.
“What’d she say?”
“She said thanks for the music.”
“She did not. Liar.” He starts buzzing around the side of the dance floor to keep me in sight.
“She did too.”
“Go away. You annoy me.” I hear his snort, over the music, and he stops moving. I run Julia’s small back. My hand is almost as long as her back is wide.
“You like this music?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s kinda nice.” I snort a little, and wonder what it sounded like to her, with her ear pressed to my chest.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, just something I said to Joan just earlier.”
“Whatever. I reckon it’s kinda funny how he put this on. I wonder what he’ll put on next.”
“This one’s pretty long, I dunno if there’ll be a next, it might go forever.” She snorts this time.
“It’s finishing now. You can tell. It started with just low brass, and it’s back to just the low brass now.” I give a double take.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She snorts again, but she’s right. The instruments drop off until there’s just one, going through the main theme, and then it stops, and we break apart. It feels kinda cold. We both turn to the stereo, and there’s Joan again. He puts on a fast rock song, and I’m disappointed. It means I don’t get to spend another song holding Julia. Or so I think. Julia’s mouth opens…
“Conga line!” She grabs my hands and plants them firmly on her waist. I feel someone else’s hands grab mine from behind, and then I’m tugged forward as Julia starts dancing forwards, kicking legs out, kind of jumping. The line kind of judders to a start, and we start jumping around the outside of the dance floor. We almost trip over Jonathan, who’s finally made it across to the other side of the dance floor, and is still crawling. Maybe he stopped to dance? Or… jerk up and down on hands and knees. And fall over. Which he does now. The line jumps over him, and he must have kept crawling afterwards, single-mindedly after that rum, because he’s not there next time we go past.
There’s less people actually dancing, and more in the conga line, so eventually, Julia actually catches up to the last person in the line, and grabs them around the waist. The twenty or so people still dancing are fully encircled in our jumping, kicking, dancing ring. I can see Joan videoing the whole thing on his phone. It must look pretty cool. Julia lets go of the person in front of her, and we snake around the room, some people swigging down drinks as we pass the long table. Who cares who they were? Mine now.
Joan leaves the stereo alone for the next song, and it throws up one of those songs that are just a whole load of white noise with a beat. I can’t get into them, even though I’ve got about twenty on my computer.
The conga line dissolves, and I look at Julia. My hands are still on her waist. I raise my eyebrows. Is there any possible way we could dance to this? She smiles at the thought, and shakes her head, then jerks it at the table where Jonathan’s now sitting, looking kind of depressed, and very drunk. Nah, it’s absolutely impossible, and the people who are still on the dance floor are absolutely insane, and a few billion brain cells short of average. Let’s go sit over there, with this drunken guy who has cause to throttle you if he was sober enough to lift his hand, or remembers who you are, or even what you said anyway. The non-verbal stuff’s fun, so I nod, once, and hold up a finger. Yeah, OK, but one thing to do first. I go and grab a bottle of rum from the middle of a table full of unconscious tattooed Warriors who all must be in intimidation and insurance, and we take it over to Jonathan.
“Wrong table, mate,” I say, putting it down in front of him and sitting down. Julia sits beside me. Jonathan immediately looks happier, and grabs for the bottle, which is suddenly on its side, glugging the strong liquid onto the already sticky table, rolling towards the edge. I pick it up for him, and put it straight in his hand. He tips it onto his chin.
“How’ve you been tonight, Jonathan?” asks Julia.
“Orright,” He mutters, pouring some of the rum onto his shirt.
“How’s your head?”
“Orright” He overcorrects, with the bottle, and it goes in his eye and nose instead. He stops the pour quickly, and curses, astonishingly fluently and clearly.
“Sure? You might have some rum on your brain right now, I think.” He tries to snort and ends up in a coughing fit.
“S’orright, don’ wor’bou’t.”
“OK, if you say so. Can I have some?” Jonathan hands over the bottle, which he hasn’t actually managed to drink anything out of yet, and Julia tips a little into her mouth.
How do they know each other so well? With the typical paranoia of the newly in love, I hadn’t considered that the conversation so far might well indicate only one previous meeting. Did they used to go out? Oh my God, what if they still go out? Have I been kissing Jonathan’s girl? Would Julia do that? Well, I don’t really know her all that well myself yet, I mean, how long’ve I known her? Maybe three hours, tops. Seems like longer. Maybe I’m just today’s thing, and then she’ll b Jonathan’s again tonight? I try to picture Julia and Jonathan together, and the image comes all too easily. My thoughts are speeding up, and my worry increasing. Right when I’m about to draw the conclusion that they’ve been going out several years and are, in fact, about to get engaged, and leave them to each other with as good a will as I could manage, Julia slips her arm around my shoulder.
“Something wrong, James?” She strokes my cheek with the back of her hand, and sweeps away all the thoughts I’d been having, and all the thoughts I’d been about to have, too. In fact, all thought.
“Nah, everything’s fine.” Except I want to kiss her again, to celebrate that I was wrong. “I’m wondering what rum tastes like, though.
She passes me the bottle, and I pass it back. She looks up at me, baffled.
“That’s not what I meant.” Comprehension dawns, and she grins.
“Ooh, Mr. Suave, aren’t we?” She tips some into her mouth, and draws my lips to hers. It tastes nice. I decide, after the third kiss, that this is the only way to drink rum. We find a bottle of wine, and try that as well. Gin’s good too, and so’s whisky. Even beer tastes good, drinking it like this. Vodka, at least the type at my birthday party, just tastes of Julia’s lipstick, but that’s alright. After a few mouthfuls of that, though, it’s getting a little hard to walk in a straight line, so I just sit down, pull Julia on top of me - she’s wavering a little, too - and kiss her without the booze. She tastes just as good.
What think you? Cute, n'est-ce pas?
For those of you who haven't been reading along as I update, and can't be bothered going through them all, I'm going to put up the entire manuscript so far. There's a couple of changes in it, so any of my avid readers (I love you all!) with a spare hour or five up their sleeve, you can read it too. It's in the next entry. I was gonna put it in this one one, but LJ tells me it's too long to post.
edit: I can't! LJ won't let me! The manuscript was too long, and then half the manuscript was too long, and then A THIRD of the manuscript was too long! And then I gave up.