“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“So you are a serial killer then.” He just laughs. I give him a look, but he keeps walking.
“Do you want the tour?” He motions at the living room, which has one of those uglier-than-sin (or, if it’s possible to be uglier than that, this one is) plaid couches that he’d probably picked up at a yard sale, a coffee table covered in cup rings and empty red plastic cups, pizza boxes and other man trash.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying not to look down at the floor as he leads me through the living room to the back where there’s a postage stamp-sized kitchen complete with yellow cabinets that are probably from the 1970s and appliances that are at least that old in that ugly green someone must have been high to think was attractive.
Jett rubs the back of his neck and I can tell he’s kind of embarrassed by how messy it is. Dishes in the sink, more pizza boxes on the counter and just a hint of old beer smell.
“Yeah, I gave up on cleaning out here. My roommate just messes it up again. He’s a decent guy, he just doesn’t understand that you have to clean on a regular basis.” He hurries me out of the kitchen.
“Um, bathroom is here. At least that stays clean, because I’m a little obsessive about it.” He points to the door where the bathroom is and I tell my bladder that it’s going to have to hold on for however long I’m here, because there is no way I’m going to use it, no matter how clean he assures me it is. I’d rather pee in the woods.
“And, um, this is my room,” he says, pushing open a door off the living room and right next to the bathroom. I try to prepare myself for it to be disgusting, but it isn’t at all. In order to cover up the horrible dark wood paneled walls (who EVER thought that was a good idea?), he’s hung posters of famous paintings and interspersed in between them are what I can only assume is his own art. Half-finished drawings done in ink on white paper, some with color, some without.
The room is small, but the art makes it feel a little bit bigger. The only furniture in the room is a bed with a bright red comforter on it, a desk covered in paper and stained by various art supplies and a dresser with a lamp on it. The room is clean and orderly, and there even seems to be an order to what’s where on the wall.
“Wow. Did you do this?” I cross the room and point at a half-done picture of a young girl. It’s almost Da Vinci-esque in its simplicity.
“Yeah. That’s my little sister River. She’s nine in that picture.” His voice gets tight and sad again when he mentions her. There’s definitely some family drama there. I know all about that, but I don’t want to seem weird by saying anything, so I just kept looking at his wall.
I also notice that he has several paper cranes made from different materials pinned here and there, and there are some scattered on the dresser.
“Sometimes I freak out and making those calms me down. It’s a habit now, I guess,” he says as I pick one up off his dresser that’s made from what appears to be a test he’d gotten a good grade on.
I turn around and he’s still standing in the doorway. Oh no. This is one of those times when I’m bound to say something stupid.
“Sometimes when I freak out, I imagine what kind of underwear people are wearing based on their personality. You know how they tell you to picture people nak*d when you’re nervous about public speaking? That freaks me out, so I imagine what their underwear is. Not that I’m doing that right now, because that would be weird—” Thankfully, I’m able to cut myself off there as my face goes redder than his comforter and I drop the paper crane.
He just looks at me like he doesn’t know what to make of me and then shakes his head and starts laughing.
“Whatever works for you, I guess.” I die a little inside and pray that he asks me if I want to go sit in the living room.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” He jerks his head at the living room.
“Yeah, sure.” Still, mortified, I leave his room and he shuts the door again.
“Oh, yeah. Let me tidy this up first.” The couch is covered in crap, including a few hoodies, takeout boxes and more red plastic cups. Part of me wants to take them and build a fort. If they were clean, I might attempt it.
Jett mutters to himself and cleans the couch off, goes back to his room and comes back with his comforter and spreads it on the couch.
“Um, yeah. You kinda want a barrier between you and the couch. Don’t ask why. Just trust me.” My mouth drops open and he laughs again. It makes his eyes crinkle up and I can’t help but smile, even though I don’t intend to. Are smiles contagious? Like yawns?
“I’m sorry. If you knew Javier, you’d get it, but luckily, you won’t have to meet him.” He sits down on the couch and pats the empty space beside him.
I stop for a moment and assess how weird this situation is. I’m going to sit and watch a movie with this guy I’ve barely met (who smells great and has a swoony smile) so that my friends will think I’m out losing my virginity to said guy. Is this my life now?
“I don’t bite, I swear,” he says and smiles again, and my stomach gets a little fluttery at the thought of sitting next to him, even though I’m terrified of the couch.
I sit down and there’s about a foot of space between us and it feels like it actually has weight and substance. A wall. He grabs the remote and turns on the television, which is a fancy flatscreen that probably cost more than all the other furniture in the apartment combined.
“It’s Javi’s,” he says in answer to my unasked question. “Okay, so we have movies with explosions, movies with robots and explosions and movies with superheroes and explosions, some really weird p*rn that belongs to Javi, The Hangover, Knocked Up, Superbad, Serenity and, for some reason, Mean Girls. I honestly have no idea where it came from. Sorry I don’t have more choices.”
Actually, those aren’t bad choices, except for the porn. There is no way I’m watching that with him. I like robots and explosions and all that, and I’m a huge fan of superheroes, but my ultimate choice is the last movie he mentioned.
“Have you watched Mean Girls?”
“Uh, no. It looked kind of lame.” Yup, that settles it.
“Uh, no, it is the greatest thing ever, so that is what we are watching.” I take the initiative and get up and grab the DVD box off the shelf beside the television where it’s the lone pink box. Now it’s time to figure out how to work the stupid fancy DVD contraption. I push what I think is the eject button, but nothing happens. This is why I can’t have nice things.
“Here,” his voice says and suddenly, he’s right behind me and he’s breathing on me and I can’t move. I am paralyzed as I hear his voice in my ear and he reaches around me to hit the right buttons and get the little tray that you put the DVD on to come out.
His tattoos go all the way to his wrist. I somehow make my body move and put the DVD in and turn around and I nearly crash into him, but he puts his hands on my shoulders to prevent it. He laughs nervously.
“Steady there.” My body tingles from head to toe, almost like the pins and needles when your arm falls asleep and starts to wake up. Only my whole body is waking up.
“Sorry. I’m, um, not always this uncoordinated.”
His hands are still on my shoulders and the DVD starts to play previews, but neither of us seems to be able to move. And then it’s like Jett shakes himself mentally and goes back to the couch. Takes me a second to do the same.
“Usually I wear heels and I think I’m more coordinated in them than flat shoes. That makes no sense, but it’s true,” I babble as he skips the rest of the previews and goes right to the movie menu, but doesn’t start it.
“Do you, uh, want some popcorn or something? I’m sorry, I should have asked sooner. I suck as a host. I just don’t have people over that often. Or at least, I’m not the one who entertains them. That’s all Javi.” He gets up and it’s like he needs a reason to run away from me. What? I’m completely confused. There is no way that I could have done something to make him want to run away from me. Unless, when he was standing close to me, I smelled bad.
Oh my God, do I smell bad? While he’s searching through the fridge, I do an armpit check. Nope, my deodorant is still working, and I’d sprayed a little perfume and I can still smell a hint of it, so I don’t think I smell bad. Unless, I’m one of those people who doesn’t know they smell bad, because it’s you and you’re so used to your own smell—
“I don’t have anything to drink other than beer, orange juice and water. Sorry, I haven’t bought groceries. You came on the worst night, I guess,” Jett says, interrupting my freak-out about smelling bad.
“Oh, um, water is fine.” He pours two glasses and then puts a bag of microwave popcorn in to pop and then comes back when it’s done.
He hands me the glass of water and our skin touches and I get just the teeniest bit of tingles. I can feel myself blushing, so I turn my head and reach for the remote to start the movie.
“You ready for this?” I say as he rips open the popcorn bag.
“Let’s rock it,” he says holding the bag out to me so I can have the first handful.
I hit play and then grab some popcorn. Since I have crazy small child-sized hands, I only get about four pieces, but I pop them into my mouth.
The movie starts to play and I reach for another handful of popcorn. Jett shifts closer to me, presumably so I can reach for the popcorn, but I can’t really tell. Wouldn’t it be great if boys’ thoughts would just emerge like those little bubbles in cartoons? Or maybe not. I probably wouldn’t want to know ninety percent of what they’re thinking.
“Wow, Lindsay Lohan looks really different,” he says, and I’m a little relieved. I always talk during movies, especially ones I’ve seen before, and I was hoping Jett wouldn’t be a shusher. Those are the most annoying people.
“Yeah, those were the good old days,” I say as both our hands reach into the popcorn bag. We both pull back and laugh nervously.
“Ladies first,” he says, and I grab another handful and then a huge sip of water.
He laughs at something in the movie, and I’m glad I’ve already seen it so I can figure out exactly what he’s laughing at. Let’s face it, I’ve seen this movie enough times that I could do a one-woman show and quote the entire thing.
For the next half hour, ninety percent of my attention is on Jett and the other ten percent is on the movie. He’s much more interesting than Regina George at the moment.
I’m trying to figure out what his tattoos are. His left arm is clearly a dragon’s tail that swoops all around and around and ends where it curls around his wrist. I’m guessing the rest of the dragon is up further and goes across his chest or his back. His other arm looks like it has waves on it like one of those old Japanese paintings. I want to ask him to take his shirt off, but that would be rude and kind of awkward and totally weird. He also has stuff around his neck, but I couldn’t really see what it is because his shirt is in the way. Curse you, shirt.