SHITTY ANGELS

B. McGILLICUDDY

A saucy hipster with a taste for champagne and a passion for electro music had stolen his virginity only a week before. But she's another story entirely, for another lonely day. Tonight though, the combining effects of multiple organic hallucinogens and particularly promiscuous company warded off any reservations he had about passing up on joining everyone else's fun, and he suspected her reactions were a result of the same.

"Isn't it awesome how the sky looks like someone drew it with crayons?" He asked.
"Wow, you're right!" She exclaimed, "And here I was thinking your shroomin' was making you see things in a way that I couldn't."
"No, I'm actually coming off of them now." He took a drag from his cigarette.
"You have a generally weird way of seeing things. You know that, mister?"
"Well technically, since everybody sees things differently, the likelihood of finding someone who sees things 'weird' probably isn't that low."
"Haha, you're such a putz." He looked her in the eyes, half-amused and half-perplexed.
"You know, I think you're the first person I've heard say that without it sounding even vaguely awkward."
"Haha!"

Inside, the hookah was making its rounds while an episode of "Sex and the City" played on loop. Jessica Parker said something self-revealing and less than universally true, probably for the fortieth time that night. Nevertheless, it got the whole hopped-up company laughing like the god of sitcom had descended, just to stretch his awkward arms out and tickle every wine-laden belly.

He turned to her and grinned a little. Her arms were relaxed in a "u" atop the rests on her chair. Her foot, flip-flopped and with toes painted a bright but not obnoxious pink, bobbed absentmindedly as she looked out into the western twilight. He saw her face and how her hair dipped over "the twins" and couldn't resist the urge.

"You wanna get out of here?" He asked.
She turned to him briskly and with a smug look of inquisitiveness on her face. "Whaddya mean?"
"I mean do you want to get off of the balcony and, I dunno, 'get outta here'."
"Well, I'm not leaving this apartment," She said firmly.
"We don't have to leave the apartment, I mean..."
"Well then getting 'outta here' isn't the proper proposition is it?"
A rush of cheesy bliss surged from his toes to his lips and he smiled like the nervous novice he knew he was. "Well, do you wanna...go to your room?"
"That's more like it," She said, standing to her feet. She reached the hand that wasn't cradling a wineglass out toward him. He took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it into the night, taking her hand, standing and sliding the glass door back. But before they entered, she tugged at his arm and secured his attention. He looked at her for a moment, taking in everything her eyes had to give, and after seeing it all how he sees things, he went in for a kiss.

B. McGILLICUDDY