Love and Lists (Chocoholics)

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 fuck 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 fuck 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 fucking 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 fucking 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.

 

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