To Life!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
The flirtatious meeting of two young adults in the most unlikely of settings. Things are going well but it seems one of the characters is not all that they seem.

Submitted: November 06, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 06, 2012




She sat facing a young man that she had known for less than an hour. She had been waiting to be seen and she had always been good at making the time pass, especially if there was a handsome boy to distract her. She was wearing her skinny jeans low at the waist and tucked into her white converse shoes at the bottom. Her replica Barber jacket was unzipped and her short Guns N’ Roses t-shirt revealed some of her toned mid-section and the top of the serpent tattoo over her left inguinal ligament. Her long, shiny hair looked a different colour every time she moved her head; streaks of red, blonde, and black exposed by certain angles of lighting. 


“So are you going to drink it then?” She got up and walked over to the food and drinks machines, her eyes still on the man and a smirk starting to form at the corners of her mouth. 


“Well, I don’t know; you still haven’t told me what it is yet!” He seemed suave, if a little fulsome.


“What would be the fun if I told you?” Her eyes didn’t leave his. “And I told you I would make it worth your while...”


“And how are you going to do that?”


“I’m sure we could think of something between the two of us. Don’t you have an imagination?” Still, her eyes were fixed on his and her smile grew wider. He matched her gaze.


“I think I could think of something. Do you like dogs?”




“And do you know much about the style that dogs do things?”


“I know a bit.”


“And can you impersonate that style?”


“I’ve had a bit of experience.”


“Right, then it’s sorted. If I drink this mystery liquid, I’ll have you come round my house, shit on my carpet and then chase the postman out the garden.”


She laughed loudly, a little bit too loudly, and then blushed. She always thought her laugh was too high pitched. She didn’t mind her giggle but her laugh just wasn’t good. After what seemed like an age, she looked back up at his face and into his dark eyes. His eyes seemed wider now and more inviting. His smile seemed genuine, a smile of quiet confidence.


“Well I’ll need your phone number to organise this. I wouldn’t want to be late and miss the postman.”


“Okay, but I’m not going to write it on a piece of paper because you’ll eat it and I’ll never get to experience your doggy style.”


“I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself; you haven’t drank this yet!” She grabbed one of the large cups. “I think we’ll have three shots of espresso and a bit of chocolate sauce.” She was working fast, looking round to gauge his reaction. “A little drop of diet coke and some milk - skimmed milk, I don’t want you getting fat.”


“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He lifted up his shirt and showed off his lean, muscular abdomen. His six pack and obliques were spectacular and she tried in vain to look like she wasn’t impressed.


“Oo, so I can fatten you up a bit then.” She emptied four sachets of sugar into the cup. “And just incase its too sweet..” She picked up the salt and pepper shakers and nearly emptied them into the mixture, along with a generous helping of ketchup and orange juice. 


“Do I have your permission to add a bit of something else?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of Bells whiskey. 


“Only if you let me have some.” She didn’t wait for his response before grabbing the bottle, topping up his cup and then swallowing a mouthful of whiskey. She laughed. Not a giggle but the full, high pitched laugh that usually makes her cringe but she didn’t mind anymore. 


“Here, gimmee some of that.” He took the whiskey and drank some. They were both laughing now and they passed the bottle back and forth. “What would your parents say if they saw their little girl drinking whiskey in a hospital waiting room?”


She stopped laughing and looked down, just for a moment. She quickly grabbed the bottle and laughed again as she helped herself to another drink, but it was long enough for him to notice. He knew he had said something wrong and tried to think back to all the things she had told him. She hadn’t mentioned anything about her parents so he wasn’t sure.


“Come on lightweight! Keep up!” She was thrusting the bottle in his face and giggling with excitement.


“Alright, alright.” He took a drink, “I guess I’m just not as good a drinker as you are. I’m not used to starting this early.”


“Ye I forget that not every is like me. If only I’d thought to take whiskey on hospital visits, things might have been a bit easier.” She laughed. “I think you might be a genius.”


“Well ... I’m always pleased to help.” He laughed awkwardly. 


“Right enough of these delaying tactics. Get this drink down you.” She stirred her concoction with a tea spoon to mix all the sauce and granules through. “And you have to finish it all!”


“To Life!” He held up the cup for a toast and she held up the whiskey bottle. The touched glass and then drank. 


“Oh my god! How was it?” She grabbed the napkins and wiped his chin and the corners of his mouth. 


“Erghhh.. Horrible!”


“Ah well. Looks like I’m up.” She looked up at the doctor that had come out and called her name. “Nice meeting you Mr Whiskey Man.”


“Nice Meeting you Miss Doggy Style!”


“To Life!”




She followed the doctor out through the double doors. They took a left and then down a short stair case. She could picture the corridor in her sleep, and often did. The last time she came down here she had been with her brother and he joked that in a zombie attack, he would hide under the stairs. She couldn’t remember what her response was. 


The doctor was trying to make small talk but she had lost her voice. She must have had over a quarter of a pint of whiskey but she had never felt more sober. It was the word mortuary above the securely locked door the passed through, it was the smell of formaldehyde, it was the fire extinguisher on the wall that her brother had said would make a good weapon to hit the zombies with.


The coroner walked into the room first and she followed close behind. She looked down at the young man lying on the table. His eyes looked like they were made from marble, his skin of wax. His dark, curly hair could do with a cut - or at least a wash. He had scars down both of his arms, the lacerations ranged from a couple of weeks to a couple of years old. Round his neck was the rope mark. 


She never told him where she would hide from the zombies because she didn’t know.






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