Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [130]
“That's probably it,” he said.
“Probably,” I agreed.
He leaned in very close to my face, like he was about to say something. But he didn't. I could smell his hot, yeasty breath. Normally, this would gross me out. But there was something about seeing Len so obviously drunk and disheveled that was not unappealing. He was still very geek cute.
“Len, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure,” he said, laying his hands flat out on the bar in front of him.
“Are you still a virgin?”
I tried to keep my eyes in my head when he nodded in the affirmative, making his glasses slip yet again.
“You did everything but . . .”
“Everything but.”
“Wow.”
“Wow,” he replied, underwhelmed.
At the far end of the bar, a man and a woman with many tattoos and few teeth flirted with each other.
“You one dirty mufucka!” the woman cackled.
“Naw,” shouted the man. “You tha dirty mufucka!”
“That's nice,” Len said wistfully. “They're a nice couple.” He was so earnest it hurt.
“If it makes you feel any better, Len, I don't think Manda is really a lesbian.”
“They sure looked like lesbians to me when I walked in on them—” he paused midprofanity. “What do lesbians call what they do, anyway?”
“They call it fucking,” I said.
“Ooooooooooooooooooooooh.” Len was quietly moaning into the foam in his cup. He was falling apart again. After sprucing himself up for the past few outings, he was reverting back to sketchy.
“I didn't want to do this,” I said, swirling the beer around in my cup. “I've been saving this story, but you obviously need to hear it tonight.”
And then, I put my personal mortification aside and began a tale that I hoped would convince him that walking in on your girlfriend having lesbian sex is not the worst thing in the world.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I walked in on my parents . . . ?”
This is what friends do.
Not long after, I drove Len home. He sunk into the passenger seat with his eyes closed, and I thought he was passed out. Quite frankly, I had no idea how I was going to drag his drunk ass into his house without his psycho mom finding out and accusing me of leading him into a life of debauchery. As we pulled in front of his colonial, a Beatles song came on that snapped him out of his stupor. He had leant me Revolver a few weeks back and had insisted I listen to it.
“This is the song!” he said, swaying back and forth. “It's so true! When you love someone, you need them all the time . . .”
“I will be there and everywhere,” sang the cutest Beatle. “Here, there, and everywhere . . .”
I know this promise is meant to be a positive thing. A show of devotion. But what happens when such omnipresence outlasts the actual love? What happens then?
You end up like Len. And me.
the thirty-first
So much for a mature, grown-up relationship.
“I've been thinking,” Len said as he finished off a beer. AJ's was our new standard. It is important, though perhaps unnecessary, to explain that Len is a lightweight. One beer and he's already silly.
“About what?”
“We should fuck,” he said very seriously.
Budweiser splooshed out of my nostrils.
“But not in the lesbian way,” he clarified, as if that would make it any less hilarious.
I was still choking.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “That was wrong.”
“No, it wasn't the wrongness that got me,” I said, in between slurpy gasps for air. “It's just that it was probably the funniest thing you've ever said.”
“I was trying to be rakish and sexy.”
“I know,” I replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “That's why it was funny.”
“We should make love?” he asked, one eyebrow raised high enough to almost touch the spider plant hanging above our heads.
That made me laugh even harder.
“I'm sorry you find my come-ons so hilarious,” he said, starting to giggle a bit himself. Len actually giggled, when he did laugh, which wasn't often. Maybe it's because of the giggle. A very unmasculine giggle that, juxtaposed with all this sexy talk, just about made me pee my pants.
“You've been