"Oh, it's YOU again," Emma groaned as she opened her apartment door to her best friend, Matt. And his case of Budweiser.
"I think what you mean, Dear Emma," he clutched his chest in mock offense, "Is 'Oh, Matt, I'm so glad to see you again!'"
"Yeah, yeah," Emma growled, "At least you brought beer this time."
"Believe it or not," he teased, you weren't my first choice of companions for this evening, either."
"You mean you aren't just
dying
to get all up in this!?" Emma gestured up and down herself, referencing her baggy sweatpants, grey tank top and wispy ponytail.
Emma flopped back down on the sofa, while Matt unloaded the beer into the fridge. "So I take it Blondie Britches didn't put out?" She called into the kitchen as she half-heartedly flipped through the cable guide.
"Ugh," Matt groaned as he came into view, "She has to be the dumbest person I've ever met. Literally."
"You met her at a midnight showing of
Sex And The City
, Matt." Emma pointed out, "Were you expecting a biochemical engineer hiding in there somewhere? And more importantly, what were you doing at a midnight showing of
Sex And The City
!?"
Matt ignored her as he sat down with both beers, taking a long, dramatic pull off of the first one, followed by a theatrical, 'Aaaaaahhhhhhh'.
"Um,
excuse
me," Emma bitched, holding her hand out.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Matt feigned confusion, "Did you want a beer?"
"Fuck you," Emma laughed, tossing a pillow as hard as she could in the direction of Matt's head.
He handed her the other beer and kicked off his shoes, propping his feet up on the second-hand coffee table. "What are you watching?" he inquired.
"I just finished The Notebook, and Dirty Dancing is about to start," she replied.
"Oh,
hell
no!" Matt said, swiping the remote from Emma's unprepared grasp, "I'm not watching that crap."
"Ex-
cuse
me!" Emma declared loudly, "Who's TV are you watching? Who's sofa are you sitting on? Whose 'Chick Flick Friday' are you fucking with?!"
"Again, I'm going to assume you mean, 'Thank you, Matt, for saving me from another night alone watching terrible movies that should be banned from television.'"
"Yeah, the lovey shit does get tired after a while," she lied, "Why don't you go rent us something?"
Matt downed the rest of his beer before responding, "Ok, what are you in the mood for? Blood and guts? Something funny?"
"How about one of each," Emma reasoned, "My guess is your ass will be sleeping on my couch again tonight, anyway. We might as well keep ourselves entertained."
Matt faked a seductive stance and flirtatious wink, "I'll keep you entertained, baby..."
"Oh, don't make me puke," Emma replied, although she couldn't help noticing how nice his butt looked in those tighter-fitting jeans, "Just don't pick movies that suck. And hurry back. I'll be drinking while you're gone and you're gonna have a lot of catching up to do!"
"Yes, Ma'am," he saluted, "Back in a flash."
Emma downed another beer on the sofa shortly after he'd left, and already felt the need to break the seal. As she washed her hands in the bathroom sink, she couldn't help but notice how ragged she looked. She momentarily contemplated putting some jeans on, and maybe a bra, but quickly decided against it. Instead, she simply splashed her face, brushed her teeth and regathered her hair into a neater ponytail. She didn't need Matt thinking she'd gone to extra trouble to impress him. That was just not the nature of their friendship. Not that she gave a damn how Matt saw her, but it was the principle of the matter. He was a guy, after all, and he happened to look rather put-together tonight. Clean-shaven, pressed shirt, matching belt and socks.
Maybe he was really into this girl,
she thought,
Maybe he's more disappointed than he's letting on. Maybe I should go easy on him...
She made her way back down the hallway, and into the kitchen where she grabbed herself a beer – and one for Matt, whom she figured would be back any second. Like clockwork, just as she sat down with the two beers, Matt opened the apartment door and tossed his keys on the entry table.
"I scored us
Dude, Where's My Car
and
The Ring
," he reported triumphantly, "Which one do you want to watch first?"
"Let's go with funny first," Emma suggested, "Scary will be more fun the drunker we get,"
"Sounds good to me," Matt agreed.
"I just opened you one," Emma pointed, referring to the drink on the coffee table, "Drink up, Sir, you're a beer behind me!"
Showing off his inner-fratboy, Matt grabbed the bottle and chugged it down in a few seconds. He encored his showboating with a loud belch, and tossed the beer bottle aside.
Emma giggled, and he couldn't help but notice how her breasts bounced with each belly laugh. He quickly averted his gaze before she noticed, however. He pictured how embarrassing it would be to be caught oogling his his best friend's tits. Especially a best friend he'd known since birth and, most days, regarded as more of a sister than a friend.
"Em," Matt began, "Do you have anything stronger than beer here?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know, Patron, Jameson, Bacardi..." he rattled off, "Something that burns going down and will help me forget this stupid chick."
Emma was right. For some reason, this girl he'd only met once had hurt him somehow on their first date and he was still reeling from it.
I wonder what she said that got to him?
"I don't think I'm very well-stocked in the liquor department at the moment..." she replied, "But, I have an idea!"
A mopey Matt was not an option as far as Emma was concerned. She'd only seen him sad or upset a handful of times in her life, and it never sat well with her. As much as they teased, there was a real bond between the two of them – a connection that couldn't always be seen through all the taunting and light-hearted jabs. She knew Matt would do anything for her, and she hoped he knew she would, too.
"What's your brilliant idea?".
"Since we're watching
Dude, Where's My Car
first," Emma grinned, "We take a drink everytime someone says, 'Dude'..."
"Are you trying to kill us!?" Matt laughed, "I think I read somewhere that they say the word 'Dude' close to two hundred times in that movie. I'm bummed about this girl, but I'd like to wake up in the morning..."
"Suck it up!" Emma teased, "You and I both know you can handle it."
Matt considered the consequences for a moment. He figured another night with his head in Emma's toilet or his drool on her couch pillows couldn't hurt anything.
What the hell.
"
Well
?" Emma whined impatiently, "Do we have a deal or not?"
"Deal," Matt fake-spat in his hand and extended it for a ceremonial shake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Matt and Emma spent the next two hours laughing hysterically at the slap-stick comedy that took them back to their high school days. Matt laughed so hard at the tattoo scene that he sprayed beer across the room. The more Emma drank, the clumsier she became. At one point, the strap of her ribbed cotton tank slid down her shoulder, and before she could retrieve it, Matt caught a split-second glimpse of her braless breast and pink nipple. He felt pretty certain that she was too drunk to notice his gawking – or the bulge rising in his jeans. Nonchalantly, he maneuvered himself around in such a way that alleviated some of the strain on his aching crotch.
Their ingenious drinking game left them as intoxicated as originally planned – if not more so. Somehow during the course of the movie, their hysterical laughter and frequent trips to the kitchen for more beer had inched them closer and closer to each other on the sofa.
"Matt," Emma pointed to the bedroom as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, "If you're uncomfortable in those jeans, I think you still have a pair of lounge pants in my closet from the last time."
