The Mock Life – Chapter Two

I'm home. I haven't even been out of the house that long and I feel like I've vanquished a great demon. I find my bed, I find my nook, and my head rests gently on the pillow and I feel comfortable. I sense her. Before she even says my name, before her stench wafts in, before she breaks in like the shittest cat robber ever. There she is, the overwhelming figure of matronliness (or lacking of) lurking at the end of my bed for the second time today. Two times more than I would have preferred. She tells me that Janet her therapist has told her that maybe that I need to hear she loves me more. The Thug began seeing a psych a couple of years ago when she self-diagnosed that she was having a midlife crisis, obviously only me, my father and Janet knew this. I'm aware I sound cold, but she's just really fucking annoying. Like if you don't know someone like her you just won't understand. So then she sits. She sits on the end of the bed, she asks me how my day way, feigns some general interest and then she blindsides me. We are not an open family, we don't have family meetings or discuss our feelings the closest we've ever got is when my great aunt Marie died and my dad gave me a quick hug and a pat on the back. We're not emotionless, we are just not like this. She asks me if I'm a virgin. I feel my jaw literally drop a little and my irises widen three centimetres. This is not what we talk about. This is not who we are. Even the Thug can recognise my disbelief and slight nausea.

“Me and Janet were discussing how we're distant and how I should try and invest more time in our relationship. She's right, I mean I only have one son and well I won't be around forever so… “I mean you and Nova have been friends for a long time and she's always with you so maybe one night or an afternoon or whenever you began to have feelings. I mean these feelings are totally normal and I just want you to know that me and obviously your father are around if you want to ever talk about it, maybe we can go to a talk or something.”

At that point I honestly thought that an alien invasion has taken place and their soul mission was to find out if I had sex. The Thug looked at me for too long and then the awkwardness became toe curlingly unbearable. Even the Thug could feel it. She got up straightened her skirt and left. We did not make eye contact. Not a word or breathe was released and I knew that at that moment we were both smart enough to never do that again, whatever that was.

As if God had sent an angel himself Nova called, which was slightly off but nonetheless I picked the phone up regardless. When she spoke on the phone she spoke a million miles a minute like time was to precious to waste with idle chitchat.

“There is a party. We are going. Ro is at a family party and well Adam is going to the gym and Daniel is away at the farm with his cousins. So it's me and you.”

At that moment she realised that she hadn't actually taken a breath and she slowed down in to a rhythmic stream of words and I just listened as if I was actually a mute and not just a mute by choice. I was also very aware that resistance was futile.

“I think it would just be really nice if we could go exploring, just you and me. Meet some new people, anyway it's my friend Iz from art class party and she said I could invite people so I chose you. I think it'll be good for us to just hang out.”

I was still silent. Nova either used all of her words or none of them and I was pretty sure this was an ‘all of them’ situation.

“Are you there? Isaac?”

“I'm here.”

“Well, good, I've got to finish my mural but then I'll be round, how does eight sound? I've have a bottle of gin if you'd like to share?”

“No, thanks on the gin front. I'll see you soon”

And that was that. In the futile hopes of actually talking with anyone I decided that showering would probably help but my nap was more important. With that in mind I drifted off into a short but thoroughly refreshing slumber. I wake up to the sound of a muffled Morrissey singing This Charming Man. It's as if all my senses have made an agreement to stop in unison. Somehow my phone gets louder but even more lost... Who knew that was possible. I find it, the mystery is solved. Looking at my phone is like looking directly into the sun, blinding. Four missed calls and seven texts... shit. All from Nova bar one from Ro dissecting all the women at the party on his 'Ro Chart' a chart that apparently rates women on their face, body and hair in equal measures. The remaining ten missed contacts are all from Nova. Shit. Shit again. It's 9pm. There is nothing worse than getting ready in a rush; I mean unless you're talking about world hunger or fingerless stripped gloves (you know the ones). Getting ready became a bit of a blur but if I was to timeline the sequence of events it went something like this:

An all too brief shower

A hand ruffle through my awkward length hair

A brief but constructive conversation with Nova about tonight's events

An inner monologue about whether my blue or brown shirt would look better with my far too baggy jeans

A quick splash of cologne

And there I am, ready. I hop, skip and jump downstairs in an eager manner, maybe if I fake wanting to go then I might actually. The Thug lingers at the kitchen door frame and makes a comment about how fresh and smart I look. I acknowledge but do not open up the floor to discussion and as if Angel Gabriel was looking down himself the door bell chirps an almost chirp like sound. Nova stands there looking glorious and glittery. I even see the Thugs eye open just a little wider than they normal do, even she understands that Nova is something special. Pleasantries are exchanged then I make a concise and straight B line for the door. Not today Thug will you ruin Nova. We walk for what feels like an eternity but time doesn't drag when I'm with Nova, she tells me all about her art, her family; which in fact are the very opposite of Nova, her worries and her boyfriend. Adam is never too far away from Nova's mind. After inspection I eventually realise Nova is in fact wearing glitter and is not in fact some ethereal being.

At the end of eternity there seems to appear a two up, two down house with a hoard of violently ill teenagers and blearing music. I never was one for public intoxication. As Nova walks the crowds seem to part, they know she is something special. She doesn't flinch, she never looses focus even when a lower sixth boy throws up directly in front of her. Honestly, you could quite easily believe a mass batch of food poison had destroyed the population of the school but sadly not just an overload of vodka or whatever ever cheap spirit they managed to get their hands on. At least we've elevated ourselves from the Smirnoff Ice stage of underage drinking. Nova leads me to the kitchen, she's like a homing device. If I didn't know better I'd assume she lived her or was at least reasonably friendly with owner. I've seen one person I recognise since getting here bar Nova obviously, I'm using the term recognise very loosely. I mean I saw a naked picture of him. I mean it's got to be shitty for everyone to be all in your 'business'. The mystery is gone I imagine. Nova introduces me and I continue to lurk. Looking around I realise even if I actually knew any of these humans I would struggle to identify them. I mean I don't so the likelihood is extremely remote. They are in fact carbon copies of each other. Each striving for a certain indie gene Sequa. Each wearing a pair of brogue like pair of Dr Martens. Each wearing a slightly to tight obscure nineties band top. Each wearing a choker. Each wearing the gurn of the century. When did taking drugs become a thing again? I've always been a bit to aware of brain damage for that. I mean those FRANK adverts really worked on me. I examine the room one last time. Nope. Nothing of interest here.

"God dammit" I mutter it, to make sure no one actually believes that I am talking to myself. Nova is gone. She just got up and disappeared, it's probably her inner goodness telling her that I'm talking shit about people in my head. Fucking karma you bitch. I continue to linger in the least offensive way I can. People look at me, I look at them. We acknowledge the awkwardness and continue on. I'm not even sure Noah as in the Ark would be able to survive the flood of obnoxiously inebriated teenagers swarming this place and as if I were reading the tale aloud they all begin to go off two by two; some to vomit, some to mate. As the pairs disperse more come to claim their territory. So I wait for Nova to come find me, she will eventually I assume. I exist in the corner of an overcrowded kitchen with the lingering smell of body odour and neat vodka wafting around. I observe them, the bugs scuttle around and I just watch them run around frantically. As if by magic a little bug runs directly into me and spills the contents of what smells like Malibu and coke over me. No smell gets to me more than the smell of fake coconut. It's almost insulting how bad that sugary abomination smells. The little bug continues her scuttle to move onto her next mate without even the blink of an eye. Some people are bastards. There I stand, a sugary mess without the foggiest of where the bathroom might even be located. I'm not happy. Nova flashes into my eyesight and there she goes again to be social with someone else. Her sociability will be the sugary death of me. I lose hope of Nova coming to find me so I decided to ferret out the bathroom, plus I've already started to get sticky in the least fun way possible. Even I wouldn't want to talk to me when I smell like a thirteen year old girl.

This house is like a fucking Tardis, who knew a two up, two down could have so many extensions and loft conversions. It takes me a good ten minutes to find the bathroom. Between the excessive amount of rooms and hoards of identical people it's a real struggle to not get disorientated. How does a two up, two down become a labyrinth. On my great journey through the suburbs I've managed to walk in two couples having sex, a couple who seem to be on the verge of having sex and a room being hotboxed; they did not appreciate me opening the door. As if by some miracle I find the bathroom. THE BATHROOM. By this point I am a walking glue stick. If it was summer the bastard wasps would of annihilated me. Honest to whatever God is above I have never been so happy to see a bathroom in my whole average enough life. God has gifted me a lock as well. I stand there for a couple of minutes before I actually move, the oppressive amount of people in this labyrinth has finally got to me. You may in fact be able to tell that I don't like humans. It is not that I don't like humans, I just don't like stupid people which I think is a fair estimation of the bugs at this party. Eventually I decide to actually move. I take my top off, provocative I know. I do the usual running of the taps and the needed scrubbing of the shirt. My issue arises when I realise my top is now in fact soaking wet and I do not know these people enough to brazenly walk through the house flaunting myself, I mean changing for P.E. is already harrowing enough I'm not about to entertain this idea. My shirt goes on the towel heater until I feel good and ready to re-enter the clusterfuck taking place downstairs.

The knocks and howling noises are continuous but I remain steadfast. I will not give into the gurning clones, I will bide my time, I will not catch a cold, I will show them how deficient with my silent bathroom protest. Quickly I realise how little commitment teenagers have to their actions; they moan or kick the door but after a couple of minutes they all seem to give up hope, no wonder we get a bad rep. At the twenty minute mark I realise I'm being selfish but I feel no sense of obligation to these people, I mean they spilt their drink on me (they are now a collective opposed to individuals). You should hear the shit these kids talk about. Sex, drugs, STI's, what takeaway they'll get later, their mental health issues, their physical ailments, their extensive porn knowledge somehow all with an ever-present level of flirting. I'll give them credit they're committed to getting laid. I check my shirt once again. Still wet but just a tad less wet. This all now seems a lot less effective than I'd envisaged. Somewhere along the way I forgot about Nova, I wondered what she was doing, maybe she was telling someone her life story, maybe she was passed out drunk or maybe she was dancing as if no one was watching. The latter seeming more probable. Whilst lost in my thought a wily tall fella had managed to gate crash my little party. He looked at me sitting on the toilet, topless may I add like any rational party goer would with very little attention or interest instead he turned to the mirror above the sink and swept his coarse hair into some messy indie look. I saw no different from before but heigh-ho who is the topless boy on the toilet to say anything. In all honesty my mind was still scrambling to explain how the tall, dark and sneaky man, he was more like a man than a boy, had managed to get in the bathroom. At that moment I realised I was still very much topless. His beady eye stared at me, I was missing something and I wasn't quite sure what.

"Um, like can you move? I need to piss." He asked in a force pleasantry. I moved, still topless. Blindly I leaned into the towel heater that was uncomfortably close to the tall intruder. Going in blind was stupid. The minute I accidentally stroked his arm I realised that, so did he. We awkwardly danced round each other in an almost Argentine Tango way strangely with as much intensity and for god knows what reason I did not leave the room, I did turn away however I am not a savage. He flips the toilet seat up and begins his business and at that moment I recognise him. He's the only other person I recognise at the party bar Nova, it's naked picture dude. Instantly I feel deeply uncomfortable about recognising him at this very moment. Lets make it clear I do not recognise him because of his 'business', I can in fact not see his 'business' but none the less severe discomfort and twinges of embarrassments flood over me. Once again I realise I am still topless. This time I actually rectify this issue and place the overly damp top back on my body. It clings to my skinny frame highlighting all the excessively pointing bones I have jolting out of me. At least now the partial nakedness will not be the source of the overwhelming discomfort brewing within the rapidly shrinking bathroom. Continuing our Argentine Tango we turn in perfect synchronisation. He looks at me blankly, his mouth gurning slightly which I did not notice earlier. He has quite a normal face until you reach his jaw which could cut ice. He is slim and taller than I expected, I tilt my neck just a little to see his full face. Honestly, his hair is a creature unto itself. It's long and short and straight and curly, it resembles what I imagine a hacksaw haircut looks like. It's very intense. He has the whole nineties grunge thing down but on him he doesn't look as much as a dick. The clothes actually fit him which feels like a revolutionary concept in this trend. I'm staring him up and down, I realise this to late. There is literally nothing else to look at in this room except from the average bathroom furniture. Obviously he was looking at me too. He looks baffled and blank, I didn't know that was possible. I go to speak to try and defuse the building tension but he beats me to it.

“Dude, if you could move that would be helpful.” I realise instantly I am directly In front of the door, also his voice is a lot deeper than I remember. The shuddering embarrassment beforehand overwhelmed the hearing part of the toilet conversation. I nod obligingly, I go to move and I'm stuck. I literally can't move, I don't understand why. He nods his head down and I follow his eyes down to feet, he’s wearing grey desert boots. Obviously that's what he'd be wearing they totally fit his ‘aesthetic’. Then his eyes flick to mine and I see what he's politely trying to notify me of. Somewhere in that little dance we were accidentally taken part in I managed to get myself tangled in a towel, I don't actually understand how I managed to get myself into such a state in the two minutes he's been in here. So I try to move, try to defuse the awkwardness with the intruding formerly naked stranger. I am still stuck and then I'm on the floor. The falling process has instantly disappeared from my mind and I'm still on the floor. His all to big shadow looms over me and he just looks at me and I well just look at his crotch. I can't help but think of his ‘business’. I shudder again, I must look like I have some sort of Tourette's. Despite the brief ‘business’ interlude I continue to his face which is backlit making his features faded and his expression unclear which saves me the agony of seeing his judging and still gurning face. Then directly in front of my face I see a hand, I stare it for a little to long which seems to becoming a weird trait I possess. His hand does not waver, it remains ever present and I dubiously accept this hand of good will (see what I did there). He is stronger than he looks, he almost launches me into the loft conversion above when pulling me up and then I have direct contact with his jaw. I was right this thing is like a knife, I'm honestly a little surprised that the top of my head doesn't have blood spurting out of it. I'm up and still alive, he's found a path to the door that doesn't result in contact with me and he takes it. I'm usually a relatively relaxed person but in those brief toilet moments I am a mess. Thankfully he had clearly taken something allowing me to hold on to the hope that I might be the only who will remember this exchange in the morning.

I stumble downstairs in the hopes that Nova will be waiting for me with the realisation that this party blows and all the interesting people are somewhere else. She doesn't. Wandering around a party where you know no one isn't fun but it's even less fun when you're wearing a damp shirt that smells like coconut. God I hate coconut. Maybe it's worrying that I don't know anyone here despite the fact I've probably gone to school with some of these kids for six/seven years and then I instantly I hate these bugs. I never thought I'd say this but I wish Ro was here, at least then I would be mildly entertained by his ridiculously sexist and or backwards view. I mean I'd be laughing at him, not with him but at least I'd be talking to someone. The thought of Ro made me produce an odd laugh; almost a sigh, not quite a laugh. As quick as my mood lifts it is instantly quashed by the putrid coconut stench that refused to leave me. Shit. This party is shit. Super shit and I smell like coconut. That’s been my constant stream of thought for the last twenty minutes. I'm going to have to throw this shirt away I know it, I examine it just in case there's a way it can be saved from its sticky hell but I think sadly not.

"Isaac? Where've you been? I've looked all for you, I know it’s a big house but where did you go? Have you spoke to anyone? I met this really nice girl called Aly, I think you'd like her, she's really calm and thoughtful like you, I just think you'd like her, she's ni-" For the first time since she began talking she actually looked at me with her examining focus. Nova understands things, she senses change and moment more than anyone else I've ever met, she's amazing like that.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" She whispers it like it’s a great secret, like she might be spoiling this moment if other people hear the words.

"I'm all good Nov, just ready to go home, if you want to stay we can?" She won't say yes, she's too good to say yes and I'm low enough to play on that.

"Ye- Can you smell coconut?" The whispers game continues. "Yeah I'm ready to go, just let me say some goodbyes."

"Honestly, we can stay if you want, I know you're having a nice time." This is false advertising, I look good either way, she says yes then she feels bad, she says no and I get what I want. This makes me feel dirty, she deserves better but honestly this party blows. I've had my fill of ketheads for the night.

"I promised tonight would be an adventure for me and you i.e together we must be" The words just roll out of her mouth. I notice the subtle rhyme but I overlook it, from anyone else it would be cringe but from Nova its endearing. She floats off and makes her rounds and once again I'm alone in a kitchen. Well alone minus the thirty other people cramped into an average sized kitchen. I survey the area one last time, mainly judging, mainly reminding myself why I don't want to know these people. Mr Business emerges from somewhere in this labyrinth, you can never be to sure where you are in this hodgepodge of a house. He is taller than I remember, does he just get taller every time he enters a room. He commands the space in an almost dictorial way, his size is overwhelming. His jaw is equally as severe as I remember however the uncontrollable gurning has stopped. He really wouldn't be able to hide it if it hadn't stopped, that jaw highlights every movement. His eyes flit on to mine before he moves onto the next room, he nods his head, I nod mine and with that a silent exchange takes place. He remembers the bathroom incident. I was hoping the drugs would do that whole mind bending, memory fucking thing that FRANK told me about. You had one job drugs. In the blink of an eye Nova is back to save me and she does just that. We push through the creepy crawly bugs and for the first time in a while I can smell something but the sweet hell of Malibu that lingers on my shirt. Fresh air how I've missed you in the short time we've been apart. Somehow inside I hadn't really quite how drunk Nova was, she's doing well to walk in straight line, I can see that’s what her whole brain is focusing one. As perfect as Nova is she's not one to embarrass herself, it seems it would be a great waste to spoil something so completely good. However, it is also very clear that Nova should probably head home, she's had enough adventure for one night. I go to tell her my bathroom anecdote but I did against it, the whole situation just seems a little too personal to repeat, I don't she'd even remember the story in the morning anyway, I guess the less people know the better. We walk to Nova's house first, I am a gentleman you know. If I thought the walk there was long then the walk home is incomparable. Adam calls Nova about two minutes into our journey home and I just saunter next to her. He's probably talking about his newest protein powder or how he missed leg day. Often I'd try to earwig but this conversation is even to boring for me. After a dogs age I walk her to her door, she turns back and waves in her oh so nonchalant way and I continue on my merry little journey through middle-class suburbia. Nova's family are from old money, they live in the nicest street with the biggest houses and nicest cars. Sometimes you'd actually forget you're in Shawnham and then you see a bunch of 'drunk' fourteen year olds sitting in a park and you're bought back down to earth with shattering bump. I think I forgot how far Nova's house was out of my way, the wind has picked up since we left but I don't complain it keeps the brutish coconut smell away from my nostrils, I can deal with cold arms for a little bit. People swarmed the suburban dimly lit streets, honestly it was peculiar how many humans had descended. Clearly I hadn't been to the only party going down tonight. The streets seem to get darker, each turning leading to a fainter walk way. I've walked these street for years, I know each house, each tree and yet it's still creepy as hell when you're alone at 1am. You never know this could be the time that I get attacked by a gnarly man or woman who just wants to taste a human for the first time or the time I get brutally devoured by a visiting alien. Realistically I'm more likely to get mugged by crack addict or a jumped up little prick hopefully I'm not prophesising my future.

The novelty of the cold is wearing off and I am now in fact just very cold, you've got to be a proper dumbass to forget you're wearing a damp shirt on an early winter night. The novelty has also worn off over the walking segment of this expedition and somehow the streets seem to be getting even darker. I don't quite realise how dark its gotten or how little attention I've been paying till I get blindsided by a drunk man perched in a bush asking where the nearest kebab shop is, sadly I do not know. He looks heartbroken bless him, just a single crusader left to fight the good munchies fight. May the force be with you weird drunk man. You would think that would wake up my sense but alas it has not. This would logically be a great time to order a taxi but I am not quitter, I have not come this far to give in now to mother natures bitter breath. Seriously though you would think that the kebab king would wake me up a little but no, I shit myself again. Why do people keep trying to talk to me, it's grossly unfair.

"You got a light mate?" The voice is deep and husky, how I imagine cowboys voices sound without the country twang. He or a very masculine she are deep in the impenetrable shadows of the bus stop. The council really should put some money into street lighting around here. It may surprise you to find out that I do in fact always carry a lighter with me; I'm hyper aware that some a war or end of days apocalypse is imminent and I'm always one to be prepared also they are good conversation starters, I mean if I actually like to talk to stranger which I definitely do not. My pockets are deeper than I remember, how is that you can never find something in a time of need. Ha! There it is. I pass it into the shadows hoping that the murderous cannibal crack addict isn't at the receiving end of my lighter. He isn't unless he is bad at the cannibal part of the character.

"Cheers toilet boy. It's nice to see you know how to wear a top."

Shit.

Words have left me, shit.

I stumble over a few syllables, a two year old could hold a better conversation that I could right now. Lets make it clear, I am not an overtly emotional person but if the person at the end of my lighter had in fact been a cannibal crack addict I would of been thankful. He remembers it, that little spark of hope that the drugs had warped his mind enough to wipe it has been barbarically obliterated.

"No problem" Where do you go from this point. "I wear shirts daily, I'm actually rather talented at it, Gok Wan once told me that I wear a shirt better than anyone he's ever me. I mean I'm not sure that's something I should be proud of but-" The words are rolling out of my jaw, I can't stop. I don't talk. What. Is. This.

"You talk a lot" He's not being mean, he's just stating a fact based on what he's seen thus far. I'm going to save myself. Fight or flight.

"Not really, I mean I talk, I'm not a mime" I gesture at my striped shirt. He lets out the faintest of chuckles "but I usually don’t talk that much. Which is probably why I'm not skilled in the art of conversation." He nods his head in understanding.

"Can I borrow your light again?" I hand it over. "You smoke?" As he sparks the lighter his face is illuminated; his jaw looks softer in the flickering flame light. Coincidently so does the porch directly behind the bus stop, his jaw become unyielding once again.

"No, never was a big fan of lung cancer" Instantly I realise that I probably don’t know this guy well enough to make jokes like that. He just looks at me, he does that a lot apparently.

"Weird." The note of surprise in his voice well, surprises me. This would be a brilliant time to carry on my cold, cold walk home but something keeps my feet rooted on the spot. He gestures me to sit down, weirdly I do so.

"You live round here?"

"About a mile that way" I gesture north to him, well what I think is North.

"Sweet" He appears to be a man of very little words. I see his jaw gurn just slightly as I watch him speak. Obviously the drugs have not completely warn off. It's hard not to look at a jaw carved from marble.

"Well I should be going, see you around" I raise my hand in a feeble attempt of a wave "by-"

"Is it chill if I walk with you? I'm waiting for my mate to meet me but he's taking his time. You live town way right?" I nod. He nods. We nod. I mean I guess it's fine that my skin will be crawling for the next mile but yeah, sure, tag along.

"Honestly it's cool if you wanna go on your own, I won't be offended" He is being genuine, it's weird.

"I mean yeah sure if you want to 'til you meet your mate." People make me uncomfortable at the best of times but he makes me a little more uncomfortable than I care to admit. We walk quietly for a long time, the only conversation generated is when I point out the dog shit he was only seconds away from stepping in. It isn't an awkward situation but I still feel deeply uncomfortable.

"So have you always lived round here?" His voice sounds nervous but there is a clear disconnect between his voice and his body; he looks so comfortable, so aware of his movements. I try to gage his movements but instead I get caught in his eyes. They burrow into me, Jesus Christ this guy is intense. Most British people would accidentally make eye contact and then enter themselves into the witness protection. We're a very polite folk us British. My words fall out of my mouth a lot more aggressively than I expected.

"Born and raised." He nods. We do seem to nod an awful lot. "You?"

"Nah, I moved here a year or so ago. We used to live in Debforth." Once again I nod; not that I have a clue where that is whatsoever.

"So what do you think about our dear old Shawnham, how does it compare to Debforth... I mean I imagine most places are better than here. I mean with the crippling amount of frustrated academics and future teen baby mammas lurking around most places are equally both more and less pretentious. It's a shame really." His eyes catch mine again and his face is a thousand words. He thinks I'm cynical, he see's my lack of care for others and in that moment I feel guilty for possessing such a trait. Despite the guilt creeping up my spine I stand by my thoughts, I don't flinch away from his eyes as they assess mine. If I own nothing at least I own my beliefs.

"It's nice enough isn't it though?" He tempting some form of positivity out of me, I nod. I nod for his comfort more than for my own purpose.

"I mean people are the same everywhere aren't they. Sometimes somewhere new is fun, a clean slate and all that." In that moment his naked body flashes into my head, as quick as it appears it leaves again. Maybe that's what he was running from but sometimes the past catches up with you. He sees the discomfort in my body language, in my eyes, in my voice.

"Are you okay?" His voice changed, he's more watchful now, I shake his attention off and begin the conversation again, neither I or him want to discuss that topic.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine it's just a bit nippier than I expected." And for god knows what reason I stare at his nipples. If the ground could swallow me whole I'd be grateful. He chuckles, he's noticed. He slowly raises his hands to where I can only assume his nipples are and then shield them from my prying eyes. His laugh turns from a chuckle to a full blown gut raging laugh and my cheeks turn from a fresh faced pink to a bellowing red. His laugh commands his whole body, his whole body jitters up and down and his grin consumes his face. Whatever is happening in him is now airborne, his giggle nests itself in me and I bubble like a school child who accidentally said orgasm instead of organism to the teacher. We walk and we laugh, there is something contagious about the situation and his laugh that leaks into me. Slowly his jaw hardens again and he transforms slowly back to a man, his boyish charm disappears. But we talk, we talk about everything from the local gossip to the war on terror. He is smarter than I'd imagined and more charming that I'd assumed but still pleasantly awkward. In the blink of an eye my average, standard, ordinary house stands next to us.

He continues to walk, I wonder if he noticed that I've stopped or if he's just to cold to stop. But he stops. He stops and looks back. It doesn't seem like much but there is something in his face that make me think he's a little confused and disheartened by what's going on. His eyebrows questioning, he jaw stiff and his eyes tittering on heavy. I nod my head in a silent 'this is my stop' way and he turns. He turns and walks back to where I'm standing and then he just looks at me, I can't distinguish if he wants me to talk or if he is deciding what to say. The words flash across his face but his mouth stays firmly shut and then his eyes sweep from my face to my house and back again.

"I'm assuming this is the end of the line for you then" I nod. "Well I guess I should keep walking then, it's a bit to cold to stop" he didn't say it to offend me, he meant it in the most logical way but still the words prick my skin.

"I didn't expect your house to look like this." I'm not sure what he means by this but in my head it feels like an insult. What did he expect me to be? A upper class mansion owning heir or a poverty stricken working class man who managed to strike it lucky and end up living in suburbia. Each word seemed colder than the one before. The anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach but I choose to ignore it. I owe him nothing at the very least words driven by my emotions, they're something sacred. My eyes are a give away and I see the little man in his head working out how to dig itself out of the big hole he has created.

"I just mean, I thought your house would be a little more fancier." My eyes melt into my face and the whole whirl of emotions in my stomach become even more enraged. Whether he meant it or not he inadvertently called me poor and/or a snob. That little man inside of his brain should get be getting paid overtime for the amount of work he is putting in. He becomes fidgety, he body stiffens, it's like a warped Frankenstein's monster is in front of me.

"I don't mean fancier, I just mean more ornate, more intricate..." My body softens but not all is forgiven, He mimics my softening.

"You see I'm trying to dig a whole to China and this seemed like the perfect opportunity." He won't look at me but I refuse to look away from his face, there is something weirdly curios about what his next step might be and then I chuckle quietly. All is forgiven.

"I'm going to try and take everything you've just said as a compliment, it would seem a waste to part of bad terms"

"Bad terms?" His voice cut with a prang of hurt.

"I'm joking, I just meant it as a joke, it was too soon." Now the little man in my brain is working overtime too. The corners of my mouth rise to form an apologetic smile, he echoes it but the sincerity shines through his unlike mine.

"You should probably get going, your mate must be somewhere close by now and the hypothermia is probably beginning to kick in." In that moment a shiver convulses down his spine and the coldness comes back with a gnarly bite. In the process of walking and talking I must of somehow forgot how cold it really is. And with that coldness I hear the sigh of my bed as it waits for me to come find my nook. My body instinctively turns to the stairs that lead to my house, I refuse to look at him but I feel his eyes locked into the back of my head. Have you noticed that when its time for you to be smooth it just turns into a little bit of a shit show. My keys manage to slip out of my hands at the exact same time that I fall up the stairs, fuck it all. He doesn't laugh, I'm thankful he didn’t, instead he is next to me helping me to my feet. I didn't realised just how tall he actually is, a good couple inches taller than me and I'm not short. He feeds his hand into the gap between my arm and my chest and then he lifts me up with a surprising amount of strength. My feet find the ground and I attempt to gain back some decorum. His eyes are burrowing into mine and the intensity is almost staggering, I find myself in the space between his arms and I break free with lightening speed, the slight resistance in his arms doesn't miss my attention. My body floats up the stairs and through the door, my body doesn't consult my mind it just does what it wants. All the street light that flooded the street have now disappeared and the solid red down slams behind me, I'm plunged back into darkness. My mind strains against the image of him standing outside my door. I want to know where his eyes are looking, where he thoughts are, where his feet are leading him and yet I'll never know. Yet maybe his eyes are adjusting to the beaming lights, his thoughts ruminating the ass of girl he met at the party, his feel leading him to his friend. I was just a moment in an eternity of moment and I accept that fact. My hand glides up the staircase, my neck find my nook and my head meets the pillow. I am out.