After quite a while, it was routine to talk to Jamie almost every night from that point on.
jamester has just signed on.
staticX's heart has just stopped beating for a second.
He laughed at himself.
jamester: hello there.
staticX: Hey hey!
jamester: its nathan.
staticX: Oh. What's up?
He tried to act as if he didn't care.
jamester: having a get together. saturday. go.
staticX: K. I'm down.
Brian called again. This time, Shawn felt obliged to pick up. "Yeah? What?"
"Just wanted to congradulate you on that fuck, man."
"Yeah, thanks." He said flatly. Shawn could have murdered Brain for bringing that shit up again. Not something to be happy about.
Saturday came slower than usual. Shawn was unfashionably late. This time, he was not thinking about Jamie. He was thinking about several things, actually. Who would ever think he had a mind outside of Jamie?
Shawn rang the bell. He looked around the outside of Nathan's front door. There was a welcome mat on the floor... he remembered his house. If he could call it that.
Rock music came to his ears as Nathan opened the door holding a beer. "Shawwwwnnn, mah main man! Wassup?" His words were a little slurred, he wasn't drunk, but he was having a good time. There wasn't many people at this get togther. Mostly some guys and girls he knew from high school. He recognized a few. Mary, a black short haired skinny girl waved at Shawn, then took a swing of Vodka. He searched the living room for people he knew, and in the meantime, sat between two girls. One of them, he couldn't see, her face was being licked and eaten by a guy "making out" with her. The other girl was sleeping on the couch in her friend's lap. Probably passed out. There was a talk show on mute, that nobody was really watching. It was actually, kind of boring. Everyone seemed to be having fun, though.
Shawn carried himself to the kitchen. It was then he began to wonder where Jamie was. He took a beer and sat on the counter, thinking about what he could do.
Shawn eyed the stairs.
Jamie's room.
This should be interesting.
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