Charlotte laughs a little uncomfortably and I watch as she pinches him in the arm and he shoots her a dirty look. I doubt anyone else notices that little exchange, but I do because I’m obsessed with everything she does.
“Did I say The Kardashians? I totally meant … football. I had to watch FOOTBALL all by myself.”
She grabs Rocco’s hand, turning him to face Uncle Jim.
“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Rocco. Rocco, this is my dad, Jim Gilmore.”
Uncle Jim stands up and extends his hand out to Rocco. Rocco ignores the hand and throws both of his arms around Uncle Jim and squeezes him in a hug that lasts entirely too long by the uncomfortable look on Uncle Jim’s face.
“Charlie has told me so much about you! Can I call you Dad? It’s okay if I call you Dad, right?” Rocco asks excitedly as he finally lets go of Uncle Jim and steps back to Charlotte’s side.
“If you call me Dad I will chop off your dick and leave you for dead on the side of the road,” Uncle Jim states before sitting back down.
“Oh, Charlie, you were right! Your dad is quite the character! I already feel like part of the family. Dad, you have a lovely home,” Rocco gushes as he wraps his arm around Charlotte’s waist.
“Someone get me my shotgun,” Uncle Jim mutters to himself.
“What’s up, fuckers?” Uncle Drew asks as he walks up to the table. “What song should Jenny and I sing next, any requests?”
Rocco raises his hand excitedly. “Oooooh, I’ve got one! Do you know the words to ‘Don’t Rain on my Parade?’ I love me some Barbara-OUCH!”
Rocco’s hand flies to his ribs after Charlotte elbows him.
“I’m like, totally kidding, dudes. It would be some epic shit if you could sing Megadeth,” Rocco adds in a weird, deep voice.
“Who is this tool?” Drew whispers in my ear.
“He’s Charlotte’s boyfriend. She met him at school,” I whisper back as Rocco starts banging his head and attempting to sing death metal.
“What school did he go to, Closet State?” Drew mutters.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Charlotte asks Rocco, interrupting his singing.
“I would KILL for a white wine spritzer, sweetie. I’m so parched,” Rocco informs her as they walk away, hand-in-hand toward the row of coolers back by the deck.
“What the f**k just happened here?” Uncle Jim asks as he watches the two of them walk away.
“I think your daughter is dating the president of Cum Guzzlers University,” Drew informs him.
“I’m going to need Tequila for this,” Jim tells us with a sad shake of his head.
Three hours later, we’re all sitting on the deck listening to Rocco tell the story of how he met Charlotte.
“And she had on a pair of the CUTEST shoes I’ve ever seen. They were black with white polka dots and had a little pink bow right above the kitten heel. I knew I just HAD to meet this woman.”
Charlotte is sitting in between Rocco and me on a bench seat, and the only thing stopping me from throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the deck is the feel of her leg rubbing up against mine every few minutes when she shifts positions. I watch as she brings a hand up to her forehead and rubs it with her fingertips, like she’s getting a headache.
“Okay, by my count, she’s had five glasses of wine. I think it’s time to put The List in motion,” Tyler whispers in my ear from the other side of me. “Ask her if she feels okay.”
Giving him a slight nod, I lean closer to Charlotte and whisper right by her ear.
“Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to get you some water?” I ask her.
I feel Tyler flick my shoulder, and I know I shouldn’t have asked her about water. The point is for her to throw up so I can be all gentlemanly and hold her hair back while she pukes. I don’t want her to feel like shit if it isn’t necessary.
Charlotte turns her face to mine, and I can feel her warm breath against my lips.
“Thanks, I’m good. Just think I had a few too many glasses of wine. They’re starting to churn in my stomach.”
Churning stomach equals puking! It’s going to happen! It’s totally going to happen!
She turns away from me and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees while Rocco continues to talk about shoes and how Charlotte’s lip gloss perfectly matched her dress.
I need to take action. Right the f**k now! Puking can happen at any time, without any warning. I need to be prepared. I NEED TO BE PREPARED, DAMMIT!
I quickly reach out and wrap the long ponytail hanging over her shoulder in my hand, pulling it back away from her face. In my excitement to be awesome though, I pull a little too hard and yank her head up.
“Ouch! What the hell? Did you just pull my hair?”
While she questions me, everyone on the deck suddenly turns their eyes in our direction and all conversation stops. And here’s where I turn into a f**king moron. I can’t let go of her hair. The silky strands are wrapped around my fingers, and it’s like my hand has a mind of its own and won’t let go. I squeeze tighter and pull harder, and this is now turning into a nightmare because she’s glaring at me, not giving me the look of love I imagined when I saved her from puke-hair.
“Dude, too soon. Too soon! Abort!” Tyler whispers frantically in my ear.
“Ooooh, Gavin likes to pull hair. Kinky!” Uncle Drew says with a satisfied nod as he stares at me.
“I like having my hair pulled. Why haven’t you pulled my hair lately, Drew?” Jenny questions.
Let go of her hair! Let go of her f**king hair, douche!
“Jesus, let go or say something!” Tyler whispers again.
I mutter the first thing that comes to mind as I continue to hold her ponytail in my hand.
“Your hair is soft. Did you switch conditioners?”
“Oh sweet Jesus,” Tyler mutters.
“Seriously, Drew. Why haven’t you pulled my hair during sex lately? My hair isn’t soft enough for you, is it? Charlotte, what conditioner do you use?” Jenny asks.
“She uses Aveda moisturizing conditioner. I can get you some free samples from my stylist, Jenny,” Rocco tells her.
“Can you let go, please?” Charlotte asks me softly.
“You shouldn’t have puke-hair. Wine puke doesn’t wash out easily. I use Herbal Essence and it smells like strawberries,” I mumble.
All of the beer I’ve consumed under the blazing sun this afternoon, mixed with my mortification that I still haven’t let go of Charlotte’s hair, is starting to make me feel queasy.
“Drew, pull my hair,” Jenny demands.
“Babe, I can’t pull your hair. Pulling your hair makes me want to have sex with you. I pulled a hammy last night when we were on the swing set, remember?” Drew complains.
“Drew, seriously. Over share,” my mom complains with a roll of her eyes.
“Should I escort him out for you, Claire?” Tyler asks my mom in a concerned voice.
Oh Jesus, here it comes. I’m going to puke.
Finally letting go of Charlotte’s hair, I jump up from my seat and run down the stairs of the deck, over to the bushes on the side of the house, and empty my stomach of beer and shame.
A few seconds later, I feel a hand patting me on my back as I heave. When I feel comfortable that no more vomit is going to come out, I stand up and turn around.
“Are you done, or is there more? Want me to hold your hair back?” Tyler asks with a laugh.
Chapter 3 – Make Her Jealous
“How about some ginger ale? Or some dry toast? Maybe I should take your temperature,” mom says as she fusses over me and feels my forehead.
My mom and I have always been unusually close. And no, I’m not talking Norman Bates and his mom close. That’s just sick. I think it’s because she was a single mother for the first four years of my life. Or it could be that when I was little she used to joke all the time about how she hated kids. I think sometimes she overcompensates trying to make up for all of those jokes by doting on me now that I’m an adult.
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. It was probably just something I ate.” The lie easily flows from my mouth as I swat her hand away from my head.
“I’m actually not feeling so hot myself, Claire. I could use a sponge bath,” Tyler tells her.
“How about I take your temperature with a rectal thermometer the size of my fist?” Mom threatens.
“I’m strangely aroused right now,” Tyler muses.
“Do you want me to throw up again?” I ask him angrily with a punch to his arm.
After my awesome projectile vomiting skills in the shrubbery, the party had started to disperse and Charlotte left with Rocco to go to dinner, explaining she would have invited me to come but she was afraid I might be contagious and she didn’t want to get sick.
Super. Now she thinks I’m a leper.
We’re sitting in Liz and Jim’s kitchen while everyone else is outside cleaning up. I had come in here to get some peace and quiet and to get away from Uncle Drew so he would stop asking me if I could puke on command because he was sad he missed the show, and my mom and Tyler followed me in here to check on me. My mortification level is at an ultimate high right now. There’s nothing else that could possibly make this day any worse.
“You know, if you want Charlotte to realize you’re in love with her, pulling her hair and throwing up in her parents’ bushes probably wasn’t the best idea,” Mom informs me.
I take that back. THIS could possibly make my day worse. Much worse.
“Oh my gosh, what?! What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Charlotte. You’re insane. Where would you get that idea? That’s just crazy. It’s nonsense. Preposterous! She’s like my sister. We used to take baths together.”
If you ramble enough, people will think what you’re saying is true, right?
“Yes, and you used to stand up in the middle of the tub and say, ‘Hey, Charlotte, look at my big wiener!’ I hope that’s not what your next plan of attack is,” Mom says with a serious look on her face.
Note to self: remove number five from The List.
“I’m not going to show her my wiener!”
“I really think you should show her your wiener. I’m not taking it off of the list,” Tyler adds.
Everyone needs to stop saying wiener right the f**k now!
“Did someone say wiener? What list? What’s everyone talking about?” Aunt Liz asks as she walks into the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes that she piles in the sink.
“A list to get Charlotte to realize Gavin’s in love with her,” Tyler tells her.
“Dude! Shut the f**k up!” I yell.
“Oh thank God. It’s about time you do something about it. I thought your mother and I were going to be old and gray before you manned the f**k up,” Aunt Liz says as she walks over to the table and takes a seat next to my mom.
My mom and Aunt Liz have been best friends for all my life and for a lot of years before that. They’ve been through everything together, and sometimes I think they share a brain. It’s hard to believe they aren’t sisters with the way they fight. They talk more shit to each other than a book with “your mother is so fat” jokes in it.
“I think I’m going to wear blue to the wedding. I saw this gorgeous dress on sale at Macy’s the other day. I think I have a coupon,” Mom tells Liz.
“Oh hell no! I already told you I was going to wear blue, you whore. You can’t wear the same color as me, that’s tacky,” Liz complains.
Oh my God, this is not happening right now.
“Fuck your mother. I’m wearing blue. I already found my dress,” Mom argues.
“I’m the mother of the bride. The mother of the f**king bride! That means it’s up to me!” Liz fires back.
“Claire, I think you would look lovely in blue,” Tyler pipes in.
Mom turns to face Tyler and folds her arms on top of the table. “When I’m finished neutering you, I’m going to take your tiny little neuticles and light them on fire.”
Putting my elbows on the table and my head in my hands, I try to tune out the conversation going on around me. How in the hell do my mom and Liz know I’m in love with Charlotte? How is this possible? And if they know, does Charlotte know? She can’t know. There’s no way.
“You should probably take hair pulling off of the list. Charlotte never even liked it when I brushed her hair when she was little. She has a sensitive head,” Liz informs me.
“You should buy her flowers.”
“Or jewelry. Women love getting jewelry.”
“I never cared much for jewelry. I was happy if he just remembered to put the toilet seat down.”
“True. Put down the toilet seat. Ooooh, make her a mix tape! Those are always fun.”
“Nineteen-eighty-five called, they want their idea back.”
“Suck my dick.”
“This is better than watching porn,” Tyler whispers in awe as my mom and Liz go back and forth.
“Can we all just stop talking about this right now? I am not in love with her, I’m not making her a mix tape, and we’re not getting married,” I tell them, finally looking up from the table.
“You’re not in love with who? Are you dating someone now?”
Whipping around in my chair, I see Charlotte standing in the kitchen doorway with a look of horror on her face. Of course all of the idiots in the room with me choose NOW to not say anything, and the silence drags on for so long that I feel like I might puke again.
“Gavin? Are you seeing someone?” she asks again.