It was just another regular day, wasn’t it? Chris thought to himself after exhaling a new cloud of smoke. He passes the pipe to Ricky who is already looking around wildly, the higher he becomes. Chris watches Ricky Stare at it cross-eyed lighting up. All the windows were open, as they assumed Rylie wouldn't wake up due to the smell. Chris looks over at the couch where Rylie lies asleep. He thought for a few seconds that her boobs were bigger, and he could see the bottom of her underwear as the fan blew her skirt up more and more. He was staring at her for a while, until Ricky's hazel eyes stare directly into his cloudy and dazed.
"Hello?" he says.
"Huh?"
Chris reaches for the device again. Ricky doesn't let go.
"No, we're fresh out."
"Shit...then where's the weed?" Chris asks, stretching out his long legs.
Ricky sits down.
"Man, I'm barely high...you did most of it...fuck you."
He hears nothing else from Ricky and stares again at Rylie. Something shatters in the kitchen and Rylie wakes. She sits up fast, adjusting her skirt. She grins shyly over at Chris when she notices him looking.
"Ricky?!" she calls, standing up and walking to the kitchen.
She wasn't really Ricky's girlfriend, Chris told himself in his head, they were "just friends." Chris shortly followed to the kitchen and saw what looked like Ricky crying into Rylie's shoulder.
"I break plate-my favorite plate," he says like a three-year-old boy.
Rylie appeared to be struggling under his weight.
"You're high, aren’t you?"
Chris pulls Ricky away from her and she kneels on the floor to pick up the six or seven pieces of a shattered plate.
"Oh, this is the Metalocalypse one I made you last Christmas," Rylie smiles.
"A-accid-d-d-ent," Ricky stammers, sitting on the kitchen table.
"I think I can fix it," she says.
Chris was laughing. Ricky throws a mug which Chris dodges. It smashes on the wall.
"Chris, I'm not cleaning that up. You should've caught it."
"Caught it? That thing was coming at me a thousand miles a second," Chris over exaggerates.
"God, you are such a baby when you're intoxicated," Rylie says, glancing at Ricky.
"I'll have a beer," Ricky says.
The front door opens.
"Honey, I'm home," Manning calls.
As Rylie stood, Chris seemed to be even closer to her.
"Uh," he began in a low voice.
He stared at her lips. They were pink and pouty, and her starry green eyes gave him the impression that she could see through him. She had undecidedly strawberry-ish blond hair which turned blonder in the sunlight, and a natural tan which wasn't in the least bit red or fake.
"Sink," he says.
She laughed to herself, moving aside. Chris pretended to be washing his hands. He turned to see Rylie reaching up into the cabinet for a plastic zip lock bag for the broken plate.
The day was hot. Warped Tour was always an ongoing adventure. Bands, people, mosh pits, and loud music by day, cookouts, parties, and drinking by night. Rylie was laughing, having her own good time. She sat on a log on the other side of the bonfire. Chris could see her clearly. Radiohead was booming Karma Police from a boom box somewhere. Chris gathered his courage and walked around the fire and sat next to Rylie where Matt's girlfriend had been sitting moments before. Rylie turned and said hello to him. He kissed her. Creep started to play. Rylie opened her eyes. Chris opened his eyes. Their faces were so close. Rylie tilted her head and Chris's nose brushed against hers. He found himself holding her hand. She ran her thumb over Chris's fingers. Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want...what the hell am I doing here? When she pulled away from him, he merely looked at her hopefully. She just smiled back. That's when it all started.
