Kevin's POV

"C'mon, Damon, please?" I take a bite of cereal, chewing it slowly, trying to convince Damon to come with me to lunch with Abel. "It's important."

"Why? What makes it so important?" His voice is gravelly with an undertone of hangover, both of which I try to ignore, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult. Maybe I should tell him how I feel at some point, let him reject me, close that chapter of my life for good.

"Because he's a really cool poet who asked me to coffee and I'm afraid to go by myself." I adjust the phone so that it's more comfortable to hold, getting up to rinse out my bowl.

I can feel his eyes rolling. "Then why don't you just not go? You don't even like coffee." I could lie to myself and say that he's jealous, but I can tell he's only being lazy.

"Because I want to get to know him better," I reply, slightly annoyed that he hasn't given in yet. "It's not about the coffee. He just seems really chill, you know? Please come with me, Day?"

He sighs. "Oh, fine. But you're buying." My heart leaps. Is going with your friend to meet a stranger considered a date? Probably not, but one can dream.

"Thanks! Mwah! You're the best," I grin, cheeks pink. "So, since that's not until tomorrow, you wanna hang out today?"

I hear Damon sigh, and my hopes fall. "No, I can't today. I've got work in..." There's a pause where he checks the time. "Twelve minutes. Shit." His tone doesn't change in the slightest, so I can tell that he's not awake enough to realize the consequences of his lateness, and it makes me laugh a bit.

"Damon, get up. Go to work," I scold him. "I'll meet you afterwards with discount ice cream, okay?"

He grumbles something close to an affirmative response and hangs up the phone. I hum to myself as I leave the kitchen to find my dad scrambling hurriedly up the stairs. It isn't an uncommon sight. I give him a suspicious look. "Dad, were you spying on me?"

He adjusts his glasses with a sheepish smile, sitting on the bottom step. "Well, I won't deny it. I was. I didn't know that you were going on a coffee date already," he smirks. I blush, nearly defending myself, nearly blurting that it isn't a date, but he interrupts me. "And with Damon, too?" I nod. He nods back. "I'll pray for you. For self restraint and confidence. God knows you need it."

I laugh, giving my father a playful shove. "Oh, come on. It won't be that bad."

............

This will definitely be worse than I'd thought. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing I wasn't so socially awkward. I haven't been out with a friend other than Damon in a long time, and my current situation highlights that fact. Abel's sent me a text, not too long ago, and I am still wondering how to answer it.

From: Abel

Hey, Blue. Just making sure we're still on for tomorrow x

The answer to his question is obvious, but the kiss at the end? Do I return it? Is that weird? Should I escalate the kissing and add two? What would that imply? Is it okay if I use a kiss and a smiley? Would a winky smiley be the acceptable combination of the two? I sigh, sitting up, letting my curls flop into my face. I should get out more.

I let my thumbs hover above the keyboard for a few more moments before typing a response.

To: Abel

Yep, the plans are a go! I'm looking forward to it x

I let out a sigh, then sit holding my phone, waiting for a response. He begins typing, stays that way for several seconds, then doesn't respond. I stare at my phone, and hope that he won't leave me on read.

My wish comes true.

From: Abel

Me too! I'll see you then! xx

I let out a happy sigh, and check the clock. Damon should be getting off of work soon, so I should get dressed. I exchange my plaid pyjama pants for a pair of skinny jeans and put on a rainbow striped sweater.

It screams homosexual, and I hope Damon will just ask me one day if I'm gay. Knowing him, he probably won't, as he's quite dense. I hum to myself, waving goodbye to my mom as I walk outside.

The fresh breeze makes my hair tickle my cheeks, and I smile at the feeling. Fall makes me quite happy, even though it's about the time that all of the flowers begin to die. My neighbor's roses are beginning to wilt a bit, looking like prom goers that are tired of dancing.

I reminisce about my junior prom, flashing back to the dark dance floor, the way I'd stuck by Damon's side the whole time, even when he'd started dirty dancing with girls, even when that hot not-really-straight guy winked at me from across the room, even when he told me to go away, because I'd promised to look after him in case he got drunk.

That's what I'd told myself anyways. I was still trying my hardest to not crush on him back then. I smile fondly at the memory, barely registering that I've arrived at the pizza parlor where Damon works.

He's standing outside, hands in his pockets, looking handsome as usual, even in his work uniform. He spins his board around on the sidewalk with his hand, looking around for me. I wish I could run over and hug him, but it doesn't seem appropriate.

"Hey, numbskull, where's my ice cream?" He pouts at me, and I glance away, embarrassed that I've forgotten it.

"Err... I forgot it. Sorry..." I scratch my head, avoiding his eyes.

Damon shrugs, hopping onto his skateboard. "That's alright. I don't really like ice cream anyways." The off hand way he says it, the slight smile on his lips as he skates away-- he's trying to start a fight.

It's an old tradition between the two of us, to argue over whose job is better. Although I'm not much in the mood for an argument, I indulge him anyways.

If the boy wants a fight, who am I to deny him?

"What do you mean, you 'don't like ice cream'?" I give an exaggerated scoff. "Who doesn't like ice cream?"

"Me," he smirks. "Although, I wouldn't one of you ice cream people to understand the sensitive tastes of my fellow artisans."

I fake a sarcastic laugh. "'Fellow artisans', yeah, right. You spend most of your time folding boxes," I tease, taking on a pretentious tone. "Unlike me, who can build a flawless twelve scoop tall cone, without dripping at all. That's a tall ice cream cone, Day."

Damon looks my entire five feet and two inches up and down. "I dunno, I feel like maybe you're using your job to compensate for something. I, on the other hand, bring pizza, the ultimate food, to the masses. They have no time for your whimsical frozen treats."

"Tell the masses that they can kiss my ice cream loving butt."

Damon's eyes light up. "Hey, I'm nobody's messenger boy, alright? I'm a delivery boy."

I pause. "I can't tell whether you were intentionally quoting Shrek at me or if it was just a good comeback. Either way, damn. I know when I'm beat." I bow to him, conceding to defeat.

He laughs, full on laughs, and I fly straight to cloud nine. "Thanks, Kev. Hey, I gotta go, but I'll pick you up around one thirty for your coffee thing?"

I realize that we're at my house, and nod. "Yeah, for sure. Bye, Damon."

He waves at me and hops back onto his skateboard. I retire to my house, changing into clean pyjamas and spending the rest of the evening watching TV.

Thanks a million for reading! I hope you're enjoying it!

Also, my favorite word of the day: horticulture. I'm not really sure why, I just like the way it sounds. Horticulture.