Slumber Party

“Stay over,” Scrabble suggested.

“It’s a school night,” I countered as I nuzzled tighter into the nook, that sweet spot just under his arm.

“So what?”

“And it’s only our second date.”

“I know you aren’t the type of girl who lives by dating rules,” he said while running his hand over my bare arm to prove a point.

“Why do you want me to stay over so badly?”

“Because it’d be nice to wake up next to you in the morning.”

That did it. And for my male readers, feel free to recycle that line so you too can manipulate all sorts of ladies to join you for a slumber party. I’m thinking it has a 93.25% success rate. Anyway, I put aside my angst about sleeping poorly at a new boy’s house and agreed to the overnighter.

By 11pm, Scrabble was passed out in bed and I was just lying there staring at the ceiling. I slipped out of bed, got dressed and headed down to play on his laptop. An hour and forty-five minutes later I crawled back in between the sheets. I was still wide awake, so I just let my brain run wild with the hopes it’d tucker itself out. Sorta like chasing my nephew outside around the perimeter of the house for no other reason than to simply run him down to empty.



Is that a light blinking?
It is.
Is it green?
I wonder what it is.
Must be a smoke alarm.
But I thought most smoke alarms had red lights.
Red like flames.
I wonder if that’s why they make them red.
To match the color of the danger they warn about.
Damn I’m hungry.
Oh yeah.
Skipped dinner.
Maybe I’ll run over to WaWa.
How many blocks is that?
One, two, three, four, five, six down and one, two, three four...
Wait.
One, two, three four, five, six down and one, two, three over.
Not too bad of a stroll.
God, a Shorti sounds good right about now.
Turkey with honey mustard.
I’ll have to take his keys to get back in.
What if even with the keys I get locked out?
My luck he won’t hear his phone.
WaWa’s out.
I really need to just get back into the habit of keeping a Pria bar in my handbag.
Seriously, what kind of guy stocks only a gallon of hot sauce and a box of Triscuits?
Oh, and Bay Seasoning.
And to think he was going to make us dinner tonight.
Thank God that didn’t come to fruition.
Fuck it.
I’ll just get a bagel in the morning when I head home.
How early can I leave without looking like I’m sprinting to the door?
I’m thinking 5:30 is too early but I ain’t staying here one minute past 6:30.
No way, no how.
I need fooooooooooooooooooooooooood.
I could never be one of those starving kids in Ethiopia.
Are people still starving in Ethiopia?
A toasted onion bagel with lite cream cheese.
Scrap that.
A toasted onion bagel with lox spread.
I had enough physical exercise earlier tonight to warrant bypassing anything low-fat.
I think I’ll go to Fill-a-bagel.
Their bagels always hit the spot.
Maybe I should go straight there and then go home to shower?
Nah.
I’ll be wearing day old clothes.
I haven’t done the walk of shame since college.
Maybe I should just stop at Dunkin’ Donuts and get a bagel there.
Hit their drive-thru.
Those bagels suck, though.
Selling sucky bagels should be illegal.
I pass McDonalds on the way home if I hit Broad Street right.
They have a drive-thru.
Good thing because the neighborhood is as safe as Tikrit.
An Egg McMuffin sounds damn good right about now.
Scratch that.
I think I’ll get a greasy Sausage McMuffin instead.
Haven't had one of those since 2001.
I’ll burp it for days but it tastes so damn good.
If I’m going to splurge on the grease, might as well get some hash browns.
My throat’s been hurting, I’ll order an OJ also.
Ix-nay the OJ.
Tastes like orange tinted water.
Why is it so hard to sell good orange juice?
Is it 6:30 yet?
What does his alarm clock say?
God dammit!
Who gets an alarm clock that doesn’t glow numbers clearly at night?
Scrabble, that’s who.
Does this count as a flaw?
I’m combining the gallon of hot sauce and non-glowing alarm clock into one flaw.
That’s generous of me.
Go Paige.
You’re curbing the judgment a little.
Good for you.
Wait, my Swatch has glowing hands.
Or does it?
Okay, it’s either five fifteen or three twenty.
Either way, I’m fucked ‘cause it ain’t 6:30.
Maybe I’ll go get a Triscuit after all.
No way.
I’ll totally wipe out on that shitty spiral staircase.
That'll be fun to explain when Scrabble awakes to my thunderous tumble.
You're not eating something.
Just close your eyes.
That's it.
Go to sleep, Paige.
Go to sleep, Paige.
Go to sleep, Paige.
For the love of Fucking God, go to sleep, Paige.



“Where are you going?” he asked in a groggy morning voice.

“Time to start my day,” I replied already dressed and darting for the door. I would have been able to slip out unnoticed if I hadn’t accidentally walked head-on into the open, bi-fold, closet door while exiting the bathroom after brushing my teeth with a swoop of toothpaste on my index finger.

“Come back to bed. It’s only 6:30.”

“I really need to head out. Seriously. I have to go home before going to work,” I said while simultaneously calculating how long of a power nap I could sneak in pre-shower to offset the lack of sleep.

“Just get back in here and curl up in front of me so I can wrap my arms around you.”

“Fine. Ten minutes. But I’m counting.”

There goes the power nap.