Page 33 of Trading Paint
“Hey,” she replied kissing my cheek.
I don’t know why but I always felt uncomfortable when she did that in front of Sway. I still got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when Sway was around, as though my being with Chelsea was bad.
“You comingtonight?” Sway asked Chelsea biting on her pen.
I continued to stare unabashedly at Sway’s lips curled around the pen, ignoring the fact that Chelsea was talking to me.
Fuck me! Look at those lips. Jesus she is beautiful.
“Jameson!” Chelsea yelled directly in my ear.
I turned to her as Sway rolled her eyes.
“What?” I snapped opening my book to advert my eyes away from Sway and that goddamn pen.
I hate teenage hormones.
Sway kicked me under the table. “Jameson, I was saying...it’s just a bunch of guys up at Dayton Peak tonight, right?” she hinted.
“Oh yeah, right,” I caught on. “Yeah, Chelsea...that’s why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think you’d wanna come up there if it was just the guys.”
Chelsea smiled tenderly, her blue eyes focused on my lips. “That’s not my idea of fun. If it’s just the guys...I guess you’ll be there, Sway?”
Chelsea and Sway still did not get along. They never had and I doubted that they ever would. They were complete opposites. Chelsea was a girly girl and Sway spent most of her time at dirt tracks and cussed more than a trucker.
I never understood why Sway wanted to hang with a bunch of jerk-offs like us but she did. Our idea of fun was hurling insults at each other and playing practical jokes that had a good possibility of someone being arrested or put in the hospital but I soon became aware that Sway enjoyed our type of fun too.
Sway quirked an eyebrow at me and snorted, “I guess I’m just aguy.” Her lips wrapped around that fucking pen again.
I reacted. Reaching across the table I snatched the pen from her hand and hurled it across the classroom. To my satisfaction, it slid under the heater vents in the back of the room.
She glared leaning in to whisper, “Was that necessary asshole?” and then kicked my shin.
“Yes it was.” I kept my eyes focused on my book.
“Well I have plans anyway.” Chelsea piped in when Sway started giggling after she noticed I had a fuel pump in my backpack to give to Tommy’s dad.
“You couldn’t drop that off before school?” she asked ignoring Chelsea.
“I was going to but he wasn’t home...so I brought it with me.”
“And I assume you couldn’t leave it in your truck? You do realize everything in your bag reeks of fuel now?”
“Fuck no. What if someone stole it?”
She smiled widely as though this was amusing to her.
“Yes because if I was going to break into your truck I would steal the fuel pump and not the hundreds of CD’s you have all over the floor board. You know, they make these cool holders now for CD’s. You should look into one of those.”
“Hey,” I flicked her hand that reached for the fuel pump. “Point taken—back off me nag,” I grinned.
Chelsea moved from her seat to sit on my lap, which frustrated me, but I allowed it for god knows what reason.
Sway busied herself with pitching Tommy shit for passing out last night in her lawn. The black marker tattoo we added still present on his cheek.
“Fire crotch, you can’t hold your liquor for shit.” Sway kicked her long legs over the chair next to her.
Tommy’s head spun around to glare and motioned to me with a pointed finger. “Your boy there tried to kill me!”
