Milk Chocolate #25/Marshmellow #25/Coconut #18
Story: Jinxed! (?)
Piece: Let's give it another shot!
By Jillian Stephens
Prompts: Milk Chocolate #25 Worry/ Marshmellow# 25 Improvisation/Coconut#18 Nobody Move
Word Count: 508
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jessica's next date with Doug
Notes: Story Summary/ Main Characters/ Index/ Prompt Lists
So....here goes...my date with Doug...
He picked me up at my place and I noticed at the door he,already smelled of alcohol.
"Doug? Have you been drinking?"
"Yeah, a little, to even out from last night, you know?"
Ummmm.....no.
"Sure," I said, as I invited him to sit on my couch.
"Where's Trisket?"
"Oh, he's around," I said. "Would you like anything?"
"Got what I need right now," he said, raising a flask with a wink. I forced a smile. "Little hair of the dog," he added as he uncapped it and took another sip.
Great.
"Actually, I'm all set, if you'd like to go," I said, feigning perkiness.
"Excellent," he said, putting the damned flask away. "Where do you wanna go?"
Preferably a place without a Karaoke machine.
"Oh, I don't know."
"Where the wind takes us?"
"Sure," I said, perking up. Sounded good to me. Maybe a little midnight snack or a romantic midnight walk through a park or perhaps a moonlit stroll by a local lake....
In reality, within the hour we were...in a bar. .. with a Karaoke machine.
"So, Doug, you manage a book store."
"Yeah, it's fucking boring but it's a living. Surely, being a secretary must be fucking boring as hell."
"Actually, it isn't. Our office staff is very interesting."
"Sure, some of 'em seem cool, but being in a stupid cubicle all day must suck."
"I like my job."
"I hate mine. It sucks. I spend my day around clueless college students and bored housewives who need an extra buck."
I smiled. "What would you like to do with your life?"
"Sing," he said, his dark eyes widenening.
Oh. My. God.
"Great!" I said, forcing a smile.
Sure enough, he put on another Karaoke concert for the bar, getting cheers, especially when he started jumping up on the tables.
I ran over to him as he sang from table to table, wishing I could enjoy the show, but really I couldn't. I was genuinely concerned he was going to fall he was so drunk.
When he reached the end of his performance, he sank into a nice, cushioned booth.
I smiled as I helped him up. "Where should we go next?" he slurred.
"Don't you think we should go home?"
"Home? Why?"
And ... the night continued in much the same fashion. The next bar we went to didn't have a Karaoke machine, but a jukebox, which he began singing along to.
I have to hang in there, I told myself.
I drank more myself and found that I started cheering him on. As he was performing "Burning Love" standing on a table again, he pulled me up and I sang along with him.
I suddenly thought I was being silly as I stood there singing with him and the entire bar cheering us on. This, actually, wasn't a bad way to spend a Saturday night.
We ended the night half-passed out in a cab. He was dropped off first, but before he exited the cab, he laid the kiss of the century on me. I really did feel like I was on fire and as if I didn't want to go home to my own apartment. But...I regret to say...go home -- I did.