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Who: November and Hawthorne
Where: November's house in Lake George
When: In the wee hours of Sunday morning/Saturday night
What: No is all alone in her house and can't sleep so she texts her bud Manney for company, lo and behold she tested the wrong Nikitin and ended up with Thorny instead.
Rating: SFW
November, not for the first time, had the house all to herself for the weekend. Her mom and brother had gone to visit her sister at school and her dad was on tour again. As much as she enjoyed the quiet during the day on Saturday she hated the creepy feeling at night. She had tried tea and reading but she just couldn't sleep without waking up a few seconds later with a fright. Finally she texted Manney and asked him to come over to keep him company. She was a little curious about his last stumbled text but didn't put too much thought into it as she stretched her legs and sighed quietly, just waiting for her friend to arrive.
Where: November's house in Lake George
When: In the wee hours of Sunday morning/Saturday night
What: No is all alone in her house and can't sleep so she texts her bud Manney for company, lo and behold she tested the wrong Nikitin and ended up with Thorny instead.
Rating: SFW
November, not for the first time, had the house all to herself for the weekend. Her mom and brother had gone to visit her sister at school and her dad was on tour again. As much as she enjoyed the quiet during the day on Saturday she hated the creepy feeling at night. She had tried tea and reading but she just couldn't sleep without waking up a few seconds later with a fright. Finally she texted Manney and asked him to come over to keep him company. She was a little curious about his last stumbled text but didn't put too much thought into it as she stretched her legs and sighed quietly, just waiting for her friend to arrive.
She slid a glass over to him and took a sip of her own. "Wanna go to the living room?" she asked, leaning against the counter a little.
He took his drink and nodded happily. "Yeah. I'll follow you anywhere."
"Even off a bridge?" she teased looking back at him. "They always say you gotta watch out for the quiet ones," she grinned.
She made herself comfortable at the end of the couch in the living room, sitting with her legs folded up under her body.
He plopped down next to her on the middle cushion, clearly too close but also not caring very much. "Your parents know how to keep a house man. This shit is the bomb."
"Oh thanks," she shrugged. "It's mom really, she's all into the interior design bullshit but dad is the one who's always bringing home cool shit from on t... business trips," she cringed a little at her almost slip up.
She took a long sip of beer and then beamed at him. "It's not usually so put together though, there's usually piles of sneakers and guitars everywhere," she said.
"My dad's apartment is a man cave, but he keeps it tidy. Mom's is a little more... eclectic I guess you could call it. My room... You're glad you're a girl and I wouldn't invite you over to horrify you." Thorny wasn't a tidy boy, not in the least.
"I like both sneakers and guitars," he promised. "Wear 'em. Play 'em. Rock out." He kicked his leg up to show her his latest pair of kicks. They had black soles and crazy neon geometric shapes covering the canvas.
"Oooo!" her eyes went straight to his shoes. "Those are pretty bad ass! I like the green," she smiled. "I just got a pair of vegetarian sneakers the other day. They're all black and kinda look like all stars."
"Those the kind you can eat?" he asked of her shoes. Hippies were so fucking weird to Thorn he didn't even understand why you'd want shoes you could eat.
"No silly," she laughed. "They're just made animal product and cruelty free," she explained. "Why would you want to eat your shoes?"
Then he was laughing and forgot all about his creeping hand prowess. "That's what I said. Who the fuck would want to eat their fucking shoes. You walk around on 'em man. Who knows what kind of fucked up shit you stepped in."
"Right?! Like gum and dog shit!" she shivered at the thought. "The only time you would ever even want to eat them is if you were desperately held up in the woods somewhere and all you had left were your crocs."
"Only jerks wear crocs," he affirmed. "You can eat fucking tree bark if you're that hard up."
"True. Or berries! As long as you know what kind of berries they are. I heard you can like trip balls if you eat the wrong ones, or like die even."
"You don't strike me as the type to do that." Then he backtracked immediately. "Not that it's a bad thing," because he did every other weekend. "Just. You know? You seem like... A really nice girl."
"Not that I'm like... crazy anti-drug, like do what you want and everything. I'm just the friend that makes sure everything is okay."
She thought about it for a second. Really nice girl tended to come along with a but and kept her guy friends as just friends. No was just waiting to hear his but...
"Right. Yeah. No, that's cool. I mean. Everyone needs like... their sober bud to keep an eye out."
He didn't have a but when it came to calling her a nice girl. She was a little quiet, shyer than he was used to, but she could wail on the guitar and she liked his shoes. His list of prerequisites for the girls he went after was already accomplished.
"I'm a little bit of a chicken shit for that sort of thing," she admitted with a little smile. "If you ever need a sober friend though, you can always call me," she offered kindly. She had nursed her little brother through some terrible trips and once even babysat her older sister while she was on shrooms. She... sorta knew... what she was getting into.
He grinned at her. "No shame in being chicken shit every now and again. You better be careful what you promise. I'll be calling you every weekend." He went for broke and moved his arm off the back of the couch and onto her shoulders, a big open palm resting easily over her arm.
"I might be okay with that, as long as you're not high every time you call me," she teased, doing her best not to twitch a little when his arm finally came around her shoulders. She even scooted a little closer for good measure.