Most people see the weekend as an enjoyable time of relaxation – a freedom from the five-day prison of school, if you will. Back home, I used to spend my Saturday mornings playing baseball, afternoons showering and playing video games, and evenings out with the crew. Instead, I was devoting most of my Saturday researching and typing a 1,000 word essay for AP Biology on the function of water at both the molecular and macroscopic levels and why it was known as he molecule of life. I was furiously pounding away at my keyboard. I had Microsoft Word opened on screen, and I would type a couple sentences, quickly hit Alt + Tab and switch over to AIM to check for new messages, quickly hit Alt + Tab again to peruse Wikipedia and the like for any useful information, and quickly hit Alt + Tab once more to go back to Word. It was a vicious circle.
At the present moment, I was gleaming facts from the AIM window of Polly, an attractive senior. She had taken AP Chemistry as an elective her junior year and thus knew all about water’s polar properties, angles of bonding, and such. I had never taken a real chemistry class, and this stuff made as much sense to me as reading Sanskrit or sightsinging with fixed solfege.
Have you ever been so involved with your work that you started dictating to yourself? They say that hearing yourself talk and brainstorm improves your productivity, and I suppose that it’s your brain’s natural function to do this during intense moments. I verbalized several rudimentary examples and proofs of the function of water – I mean, dihydrogen monoxide – at the level of macroscopic proportions. When writing an essay graded on length, every word counts, no matter how many bullshit terms you have to pull out of your breast pocket.
I switched back to Firefox to plagiarize a stoichiometric equation involving water and carbon, and then back to instant messenger to read Polly’s explanation of why water’s different states of matter each had an effect on life. Right then, the doorbell rang. I shouted, “Get the door, mom!” but all I heard in response was the echo of my own voice. Shit, my parents must have been out. I slammed a fist on the desk, saved my work, and ran to the door in the hopes of getting back to my work.
Not even bothering to check the peephole, I unlocked the door and flung it open, only to see the face of Mariana staring excitedly back at me. We both opened our mouths at the same time, but me being the dominant male, I was the first to get my words out. I practically spit a mouthful of rage at her as I said in a strained tone, “What the fuck are you doing here?” She looked shocked and said, voice subdued, “Uh, you told me that it was alright if I came over. In English, yesterday, remember?” I blinked and took a deep breath. Suddenly it all came rushing back to me like a forgotten dream one just remembered. “Oh yeah!” I exclaimed with a smile. “Sorry, I was deeply focused on an AP essay. Do come in.”
She gave a somewhat knowing nod and stepped inside. I closed the door behind her. I said, “What’s up?” She shrugged and said, “Bored. In need of entertainment.” I gave a wink and seductively said, “I think I can provide that.” Mariana might be thick, but she wasn’t thick enough to miss that one. She punched me in the arm and laughed. “You horny little bastard,” she chuckled. I simply smiled in acknowledgement.
“You hungry or thirsty?” I asked. “We’ve got lots of stuff and not nearly enough people to consume it.” She laughed again and responded, “You talk so formally. ‘Not nearly enough people to consume it.’ It’s so cute. Anyway, I’ll probably be fine, although I might want a protein shake later.” This girl gets down to business. I began to get aroused but forced it out of my mind.
I grabbed her fingers playfully and said, “Well, what do you want to do until you get thirsty? We’ve got television, music, video games, whatever.” “Eh, the TV should be fine,” she replied. “What provider do you have?” I said back, “DirecTV.” She said, “Good.”
I grabbed the remote off of the kitchen counter and flipped it to her, which she deftly caught. Adeptly, she powered up the television and hit it 859, which showed up as “BPM”. The club radio channel. I looked at her as she pumped up the volume on the television, to which she returned my gaze and said, “Let’s rave.”
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Generally, I have somewhat of an OCD-type madness when it comes to work. If I don’t finish whatever project I’m currently doing, I’ll get extremely flustered. Terminating my work in the middle of that AP Biology essay usually would piss me off, but my mind was on everything but H2O as I clubbed it up with Mariana. She would smoothly slide her body up to mine like an experienced club slut; I would grab her waist, spin her around, and start grinding her. I was wearing what I usually wear around the house, a crappy T-shirt and sweatpants, while she was wearing a sundress, but that didn’t seem to bother her one bit. In fact, she seemed to love my choice of attire. As she perpetually moved closer and closer to me with her hands on my back or my butt and her tongue on my ear, a certain spot on my sweatpants began to inch out. At the same time, I would occasionally tease her by running a hand over her big boobs or tight ass.
Eventually, I lost track of how many songs had been played or how long I had been dancing with her. All I know is that after a song stopped, my lips were at Mariana’s ear, and I whispered, “Shall we continue in my room?” Instead of the laugh that I expected, she pulled her head away from mine, gave a seductive nod, grabbed my hand, and said, “Show me the way.”
I led her down the hallway to my room, and as soon as we closed the door, I pushed her against it and we started making out fiercely. Her breath tasted like Coolmint Icebreakers, a fact I duly noted. She slid a hand under my shirt as she attempted to take it off of me. I was too tall for her to reach, so I gave her a hand, and then aided her in removing her sundress and bra. My hands swiftly moved all over her body, as I wanted all of her at once. I bent down to suck on her nipples, causing her to emit repeated moans of ecstasy. The next second, I was using my arms to brace myself against the wall as she licked, kissed, and sucked on my stomach (Meghan was slightly better at that, I thought to myself) while massaging my dick through my sweatpants, which was now fully erect. The next second, I was giving her a hickey on her neck while I began to slide a hand into her panties. Feeling this, she pushed me away and said, “You first.”
Some girls love to suck dick, and as I guided her towards my bed, I couldn’t help but think that she was one of them. What kind of girl wants to pleasure the guy first? Meghan and a couple others, especially Erica, always had me perform cunnilingus for fucking weeks. And when Erica finally gave a blowjob, she fucking spit!
Mariana pulled my sweatpants and boxers off simultaneously, revealing my erection. She gasped and said, “How do you fit this in your jeans?” Now, I’ve compared my penis to every measurement study out there, and it is completely average, but as I mentioned previously, Mariana is dense.
She immediately wrapped her mouth around it and went to work. I closed my eyes in expectation of some pleasurable feelings when I felt teeth and a dry mouth. Enraged, I shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know how to fucking give head?” She put this insulted look on her face and said defensively, “My last boyfriend said I was incredible!” I shouted back, “Your last boyfriend was a motherfucking idiot!” She screamed, “Nuh-uh! He only got 3 C’s in 8th grade!” I literally slapped myself in the face and said in a calmer voice, “You don’t fucking use your teeth when you give a blowjob.” She appeared fazed and said, “I…I wasn’t using my teeth!” I replied, “Uh, yeah you…you know what? Just fucking jerk me off. Seriously.” Her mouth opened to say “but”, at which point I cut her off and yelled, “Jerk me off!” She put on that oft-expressed insulted face and went to work without saying a word.
Thankfully, Mariana bared some semblance of intelligence and skill when it came to a handjob, and had the unusual foresight to suck on my balls at multiple points. I ejaculated after a good while (I didn’t courtesy tap; she deserved it), and she lapped it up off of my abs like a contented cat licking the last of its milk bowl. She then climbed next to me and said, “Now I believe it’s my turn.” I openly laughed in her face and said while trying to straighten out my face, “You expect to have an orgasm of your own after that pathetic example of a blowjob you gave me? Please. The only climax you’re getting is a self-induced one. While I watch.” She hooted, “You’re such a douchebag!” I was used to this kind of exclamation from a girl and merely retorted with, “I may be a douchebag, but you are the one begging for me to finger you.” She gaped at me, so I tacked on, “Oh, and if you think my dick is big, then your ex must have had a tiny one.”
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We ended up cuddling underneath the covers of my bed for an hour or so until I had a reality check and told Mariana, “Baby, you should leave soon. I have to finish up that essay before tonight.” She pouted before saying, “Well, what are you doing tonight?” “Alex invited me to Mizner with him,” I said. “We’re probably going to Ruby Tuesday and then to the Amphitheater.” She sighed and dejectedly said, “Oh, alright.” She clambered out of bed and got dressed while I watched. At some point, I decided that it would be appropriate for me to throw on my sweatpants before I accompanied her out, so I did that.
At the front door, I looked her in the eye and said, “I appreciate you coming over, you know.” Hah, almost like we conducted a business meeting. She smiled and said, “Anytime.” I hugged her goodbye and closed the door, heading back to my essay.
I noticed that I had a lot of IMs from Polly with enough copy-and-paste material to finish my essay. All I had to do was interject some transition, and I was all set. I quickly went to work on completing my masterpiece. All in all, my double-spaced paper ended up being four pages, which I decided was good enough. It clocked in at just under 1,200 words. Teachers like extra.
I glanced at my computer clock. It was about 5:30 in the afternoon. I decided to call Alex. After four rings, he picked up and said, “Hey dude.”
I replied, “Hey man. What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” he shot back. “Just shootin’ the shit. You?”
“Same. Mariana came over and –“
“Yo, yo, yo,” he interrupted. “Save it for when I’m out of earshot of the ‘rents.”
“Can do.” I had the same experiences with eavesdropping parents before. “Wanna do me a favor, Alex?”
He said, “Name it.”
“My parents are gone somewhere and I have no idea where. I think I need a ride.”
“Depends on where you live.”
“Uh, Clint Moore and Military.”
There was a pause on his end. “That’s a bit out of the way, but I can manage. My parents are easy to manipulate.”
“Alright. How long will we be out for?”
“You know, bro, however long we can keep a party going.” I laughed. “No, really,” he continued, “Mizner’s full of things to do. It’s the breaking ground for new kids to become acquainted with the gang. I’m surprised that you hit up Boomers first.”
I shrugged and said, “Mariana, man. That’s where I first made out with her.”
He laughed, really loudly, and condescendingly said, “Some of the stoners and scenesters at Mizner are fifteen times hotter than her. You’re not dating her, are you?”
“She probably thinks we are. Same thing happened with a girl at home. But no, we’re not going out.”
“Good. You can get some phone numbers tonight.”
“Good. When will you be here to pick me up?”
“Well, my mom was going to leave in a few minutes, actually, so I’m glad you called. We’ll be there in fifteen or twenty? Yeah, about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Why so early?” I questioned.
“Ruby Tuesday fills up fast; it’s best to eat there early, trust me.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “See you soon.”
“You too. Later.” He disconnected.
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Around 6, his mom pulled into my driveway in an old clunker of a van. I heard the horn honk, so I grabbed my cell phone, wallet, and house key and headed out to meet her. I opened the side door across from Alex and said, “Hello, Mrs. Edelstein. I’m Chester. Chester Atilman.” She gave me a leer and sternly said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” in the tone of voice that said, “You aren’t going to infiltrate my son with drugs, are you?”
I glanced at Alex and he gave me a nonchalant shoulder shrug, which I interpreted as, “Go with it.” So I said, “How long have you lived in Boca for?” She replied in the same monotone, “My parents moved here before I was born. Alexander’s a native.” He moaned, “Mom, you know I like to be called Alex in front of friends.” I had to suppress a chuckle or two.
Mizner ended up being fifteen minutes away from my house, and Alex’s mom rudely told me, “You should be grateful that I picked you up. We live extremely close, and going out of the way to retrieve you was a waste of time, gas, and efficiency.” I know how to bullshit, and let me tell you, I had to dig deep down into my reservoir of fecal matter to reply, “I understand, and I am very, very grateful that you did. My parents both work late seven days a week, so I would be completely abandoned was it not for you.” I paused for a breath, and Mrs. Edelstein butted in with, “What do your parents do, Chester?” I thought for a second, feigning the act of a kid trying to remember details about his distant parents, and eventually reported, “My mother is an anesthesiologist at a hospital in West Palm Beach, I think it’s the Good Samaritan. My father is an EMT for the city of Deerfield Beach. They both intentionally looked for new jobs down here so we could correlate a move.” She put on a slightly impressed facial expression, almost as if she was taken aback at the level of difficulty their “jobs” required. In reality, my dad was a cheap salesman and my mom, who didn’t work in New York, took up a job as a yoga instructor. But hey, not everybody needs to know the truth.
Finally, the car came to a stop at the curb of Ruby Tuesday, and Alex’s mom said to him, “Be safe and make smart choices.” He sighed and said, “I know, mom. Bye.” We watched as she drove off, and my first words were, “What a fucking cunt.” He agreed, “She’s a fucking librarian, dude. What a stereotype she’s filled.”
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The meal at Ruby Tuesday was uneventful, and after paying the bill, we departed the restaurant in search of something else to do. “I thought you said Mizner was the prime hangout location,” I ribbed. He laughed and punched me. “Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “There’ll be people around here. Let’s go to the Amphitheater and see who’s loitering there.”
Mizner, as I would eventually find out from Mr. Turner, was supposed to be a mock central business district, or downtown area. It certainly resembled it. Parks, statues, restaurants, and shops, all combined into one venue. The Amphitheater was the main attraction here. According to Alex, a jazz band played here every night. Right now it was the Lynn University Jazz Band, providing pleasant background music. “I don’t understand,” Alex said worriedly. “This is the first Saturday night I’ve come here where I can’t find other kids our age. What happened with you and Mariana, anyway?”
I said, “I was doing my AP Bio essay when she came over. We danced – don’t look at me like that! She put on some rave music and we danced, and then we hooked up in my bedroom.” “Nice,” he acknowledged. “How far?” “Well, she tried to give me head,” I explained, “but she was fucking terrible! She used her teeth and her mouth wasn’t moist at all, and I stopped her a minute in and told her to jerk me off.” Alex said in amazement, “Wow, she was that bad. Well, that sucks for you, dude.”
Just as he said that, a girl came darting at him from behind and jumped on him while covering his eyes. Had this been any other major city in America, both Alex and I would have assumed this mysterious newcomer to be a stranger, but Alex simply said in a playful voice, “Is it Jessie or Allie?” She giggled and replied, “Who do you think?” I saw him smile as he exclaimed, “That sounds like Allie to me!” She said, “You’re right!” and climbed off of him to give him a real hug.
Alex said, “Chester, this is obviously Allie. Allie, this is obviously Chester. He just moved here couple weeks ago.” I turned to greet her and saw the epitome of a scene kid. Her short black hair was juxtaposed with extensions that gave her hairstyle a detached look. Her eyeliner was extreme; her jeans were tight as can be; her shirt was from Hot Topic; her shoes were Vans. She must have been sizing me up as well, because she offensively said, “You look like a surfer. Are you one?” I get that a lot from new people, mainly because of my sandy-blonde mop top and my tan skin. I shook my head while saying, “Nah. I’m just blessed with German and Swedish blood.” She looked at me questioningly. Alex, oh Alex, why do you have to befriend stupid people. I explained, “Krauts and Swedes are known for having blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin – especially those Swedes.” She said, “Oh,” with a scoffing sigh that stated, “I don’t give a fuck.”
Alex broke up the tension by saying, “Where’s everyone else?” “Over in the park smoking weed,” Allie explained. “Jeremy pitched in and got a shitload of wintergreen. I was about to take my own buzz, but I saw you off in the distance. I chased after you.” I challenged, “Aren’t scenes supposed to be straight edge?” She gave me a “what the fuck do you know” look and crassly responded, “Not anymore, kiddo. Times have changed. Now it’s the hardcores who are straight edge. Scenes are the opposite.” Alex laughed and said, “I can’t keep up with my stereotypes anymore.” I nodded in agreement and questioned, “Aren’t scene kids supposed to not say that they’re scene? I mean, every scene I knew in New York had some quote about labels being for soup cans on their Myspace.” “Shut the fuck up!” Allie yelled. “You don’t know anything, so quit trying to sound like you do. I don’t care how much of Wikipedia you’ve memorized; you ain’t nothing in the real world!”
I made a point to roll my eyes at her as Alex said, “Easy, Allie, easy, Chester. Let’s go to the park with everyone else.” I followed him and Allie, listening as they talked about all sorts of trivial matters. I really liked Alex, and he didn’t lose any respect for being friends with this girl, but I could tell that she and I were not going to get along.
At the park, we saw five or six kids sitting in a semi-circle on the grass. They were either extremely scene or extremely skater. The two other girls ran up to him and hugged him, which Alex returned. One of them hugged me, which I was able to pass off as being cool, even though I was completely taken aback by the spontaneity of it. The other girl asked, “Who’s your friend?” Before Alex could explain to the group who I was, Allie interrupted with, “He’s a real jerkoff.” This got some laughter from the newcomers. Alex said, “Easy now. This is Chester. He moved in a couple weeks ago.” One of the kids said, “Welcome, man. Take a joint; we’re fucking getting baked off of our asses tonight!” Everybody else cheered. Alex pointed to each of the kids and said, in turn, “This is Ron, Jeremy, Deb, Elise, and Karl.”
Jeremy, the kid who offered me the initial joint, said, “You look like you’ve smoked before.” Before I could respond, Allie said, “Yeah, I bet he has. Look at his eyes.” She really has a quick mouth. I explained, “No. Don’t stereotype. Just because I look like a surfer doesn’t mean I smoke pot like Spicoli.” Ron laughed while everyone else stared. I guess these kids don’t watch classic movies. Allie jeered, “Don’t stereotype? You’re the one who’s making assumptions about scene kids, and you’re saying not to stereotype? Fucking hypocrite dickweed.” Ron said, “Ignore her. She can be feisty until she smokes some green,” to which she responded, “Fuck yourself.”
I said, “No, really, I don’t smoke or do drugs. I’ve never found the need. Plus, inhaling anything besides air is really bad for your alveolus.” This drew questioning looks from everybody. Damn stoner, scenester, and skater idiots. I continued, “The only drugs I would do are weed baked in a brownie or acid, and I’ve never been offered either.” Jeremy accepted this and reassured, “Don’t worry, man, you can just chill with us. If you’ve ever been around high kids before, you know how fun it is.” I nodded. Allie screamed, “Don’t feed him that, Jeremy. Kiddo, we’re getting you high whether you like it or not!” I said, “No you aren’t. Alex, you didn’t tell me that we were going to be smoking.” He said, “First of all, I didn’t know that they were going to be smoking pot here. I thought we were just going to hang out. Second of all, I mentioned to you that there were stoner chicks here, and you know it.” I did recall him saying that over the phone.
Deb interrupted the quarrel with, “Guys, guys. Let the fucking kid stay and watch. Maybe it’ll entice him into smoking.” I shook my head, but she didn’t seem to notice. Jeremy agreed, “That’s what I said the entire time, only you guys didn’t listen because you’re a bunch of cocknooses.” I laughed hard.
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I watched as everybody took a pre-rolled joint and lit ‘em up. Slowly, everybody progressed into a much more relaxed mood. Karl brought a couple of boxes of pizza in case anybody got the munchies, and Allie had iPod speakers playing some Bob Marley. I hate the music he makes. Some people don’t see how I can love ska and hate reggae, but trust me; third wave ska is upbeat and interesting. Reggae is slow and boring.
Allie climbed on top of Alex and the two of them started making out. Taking this as a cue, Ron and Karl decided to hook up as well. This was my first time ever seeing two guys make out, and as repulsed as my initial instinct was, I was also fascinated. Jeremy ended up sitting next to me laughing at the “horny little teenagers”, which I had to admit was funny. The fumes from everybody’s joints were making me a bit light-headed, so I excused myself for a second to get a drink from a water fountain in the park.
I wandered around in search of a water fountain, when lo and behold, I ran into Taylor! She looked strikingly sexy in a tight-fitting Catch 22 T-shirt and jean shorts. I gave her a quick hug and said, “Hey, what’s up? I didn’t know that you’d be here.” She replied dreamily, “I’m here and I’m so baked out of my so mind, ugh, this is great. Why are you here with?” Ignoring her lack of grammatical skills, I said, “I’m here with Alex and a bunch of scene kids he knows.” She replied, “Uh, Edelstein? He’s such a pothead.” I laughed and said, “That’s why he’s here.”
Things started to go wrong right about now. Taylor asked, “So you’re high, too? I didn’t know that you smoked.” I stammered, “No no, I’m sober.” She said, “Did they not have enough and exclude you since you’re the new kid in town?” I said fiercely, “No! I don’t smoke!” She laughed to herself. “Hah, good one, and I don’t give blowjobs to hot kids like yourself.” Well, that’s a great way to break the ice. I pushed her away from me and said, “Mariana. I won’t let you hook up with me.” What the fuck was I saying? Any other day, I’d hook up with Taylor, even if I was dating Mariana. But something just seemed wrong to me, taking advantage of a girl in a chemically altered state.
What the hell did I just say? Am I gaining morals now?
Taylor said in a mildly seducing voice, “Come on, I know that you and her aren’t, aren’t dating. Come on. I’m hot…you’re hot, I give good head.” I thought to myself about what happened the last time somebody told me they were skilled at blowjobs. “I want you,” she continued, “right now in this park.” She made another sloppy advance at me, which I easily countered.
Just then, Alex came over carrying Allie in his arms. “Chester dude,” he said in a condition not much better than Taylor’s, “you’ve been gone for like hours, bro, where have you been?” Taylor said, “We were going to hook up until you two barged in.” I quickly and abruptly shook my head at Alex while drawing my finger across my throat, which he didn’t seem to understand. Stupid stoners. Allie looked at me and said, “You were going to hook up with this fake?”
Taylor’s jaw dropped as she insultingly asked, “Who are you calling a fake?” Allie rolled her eyes and said, “I’m calling you a fake…you fake.” Taylor questioned, “And how am I fake, you fake scene?” Allie screamed, “I bet you didn’t even listen to Catch until Streetlight ripped off Keasbey!” Being a music elitist, I offered, “Tomas Kalnoky fucking wrote 90% of Keasbey Nights! It’s his decision if he wants to rerecord it with another band!” At this, Allie jumped out of Alex’s arms and slapped me across the face. I don’t take shit from anybody of any gender, and I was going to tackle her before Taylor slapped her back, saying, “Don’t fuck with my man, bitch!”
Allie tried to knock Taylor over, but she stood her ground due to her height advantage over Allie. I decided to be the mediator and break up the fight, so I ran between them and easily pushed them apart. “No fights tonight, girls. Taylor, I am not going to hook up with you, since you’re high and I’m hooking up with your best friend, and Allie, you’re just a cunt.” I then dragged Alex away and reasoned, “Dude, let’s get you sobered up and get out of here before we get into shit with the law.”
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An hour later, sitting on a bench outside of Max’s Grille, Alex had finally sobered up enough to tell me what he remembered happening. “Dude,” he explained in an urgent tone, “I’d never hooked up with Allie before, but she obviously thought that you were hot, because she always rips on people she is attracted to. She wants to see if they’re worth her staying with. I guess she wanted to make you jealous, because she made the move. Being baked, I wasn’t in a position to stop her.”
I put my head in my hands and asked, “Why do you hang out with these people?” He patted me on the shoulder and comforted me. “They’re not this bad. You saw that Jeremy was cool.” I took offense to this and shouted, “Didn’t you fucking know that I hate being around druggies? I know that I told you that a couple days ago in fucking Grayson!” It was Alex’s turn to shake his head at me. He said, “No, dude, you didn’t. I remember. You told me that you didn’t care if people did drugs or not. I remember. Your eloquent exact words were, ‘I don’t give a fuck.’”
I sighed and sat straight up. “Well, at least this was an exciting night. Call your mom and tell her to pick us up.”
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It was 4:45 in the morning. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to sleep, for that matter. I kept going over the day in my head. I woke up late, half-plagiarized an essay, had a two-man rave party in my living room, got the worst head ever, met one bitch of a mother, and nearly got into a fight with two buzzed girls. What gets me into these kinds of situations?
The flashing of a new IM window disturbed me from my train of thought. I recognized the screen name off of Taylor’s Facebook, although I had never actually talked to her through AIM, so she wasn’t on my buddy list. Well, this should be interesting. The message said, “Hey Chester. It’s Taylor. I got your username from Facebook, if you didn’t figure that out. I hope you’re awake, although I doubt it. I’m sorry about tonight. I was totally bent. Mariana told me that she’s pissed at you for ‘being mean’. I know that this is a stretch, but I have your address, and you’re a five-minute walk from my house. You’re probably feeling depressed about tonight, so if you want to sneak out to my place for some comfort…”
I typed back, “Taylor, no. Despite the fact that I totally could sneak out, I’m not hooking up with you! You’re best friends with Mariana. Guys just don’t do that.” What’s gotten into me? Of course guys do that! “Come back to me a week after I stop hooking up with her. The only way I’m going over to your house is for late-night Guitar Hero.”
She responded quickly and briefly, her message being to the point. “Fuck you.”
“I know you want to, but I’m closed to the public for now.”
“Very funny. I don’t get it, Chester. Most guys would be over in a heartbeat if a girl begged to hook up with them.”
“I’m not most guys, am I?”
“…Good point.”
