Blonde Kisses

Blonde Kisses

  Copyright © 2017 Tom Odyssey

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Contact

  Chapter 2: Ignition

  Chapter 3: Bonding at the Mall

  Chapter 4: Ascending the Staircase

  Chapter 5: On the Beach

  Chapter 6: Crunchy, Juicy Chicken

  Chapter 7: In the Pool

  Chapter 8: My Blonde Angel

  Chapter 9: High Heels, Jeans, and Simple Things

  Chapter 10: I'll Be Right There

  Chapter 11: Bright-Red Fingernails

  Chapter 12: White Yoga Pants

  Chapter 13: Sneak Peek

  Chapter 14: Back to Work

  Chapter 15: Is This Your Hottest Fantasy

  Chapter 16: I Love You More

  Chapter 17: I'll Always Be Yours

  Chapter 1

  Contact

  What could that dream possibly mean? I ask myself. I sit up in my bed and attempt to recall all of the details—or at least as many as I can while I still remember most of them anyway. The more I brood over it, the more confused I get. My sequence of thoughts is broken when, suddenly, I hear my phone ring. I see that my friend Andy is calling me, so I decide I'll answer. He has, understandably, not spoken to me in some time because he's been away on vacation. Still sleepy, I lazily reach over to my smartphone and tap the button on the screen to accept the incoming call.

  “Hello," I say in my tired voice.

  "Hey, what's up? How are you, buddy?" he answers.

  "Pretty good, I guess."

  "What've you been up to lately?” he asks me.

  "Nothing much. You?" I answer.

  "I was thinking about maybe going somewhere later tonight. Would you like to join me perhaps?" He offers.

  "Maybe… I'm not sure."

  "I think you ought to because you haven't been outside enough lately, man."

  “You could be right about that, but as you already know, whenever I go somewhere, I never seem to be able to have fun,” I explain to him.

  “Oh, come on—if you stay inside all the time, you’ll never be happy,” Andy tells me.

  “Alright, well, I'll consider it.”

  “Think about it: When was the last time you went anywhere different? Anyways, I’ll leave the choice to you. I’m going to this night club later at around 7 PM, and if you’d like to join me, then let me know so I can pick you up.”

  “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll see you later then maybe,” I reply.

  “Yeah, see ya later, bro.”

  I push the button to end the call and go back to thinking about my unusual dream. I was playing by myself at a bowling alley when an attractive blonde woman showed up and began playing in the lane next to mine. After a few minutes of silence, she greeted me with a "hi," and we talked a little bit while playing in our separate lanes. She seemed friendly, but then, without warning, she left. I said, "Wait, I forgot to ask what your name is!" but the only thing I could hear from her was a response too quiet to be heard through the glass doors. When I looked around outside, there was no trace of her. I still don't know what any of that nonsense is supposed to mean or if it's even supposed to mean anything at all; dream interpretation is beyond me.

  Should I accept Andy's offer of going to a night club? I've never even been to a place like that before, and I'm not sure if I'd really like that sort of atmosphere. When I really think about it, I realize that I've hardly been anywhere interesting in my life; most of the places I have been to never seemed all that exciting to me. Some part of me wants to try going somewhere new, but another part of me wonders whether it's really such a good idea. I'm in a real pickle here, or maybe I'm just making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. I wouldn't be surprised if it does end up being the latter, since it usually is. I get up and make myself something to eat for lunch as I think further about the options in front of me. I’m going to have to tell Andy “yes” or “no” eventually.

  ⁂

  Later that evening, after taking a shower, I get my phone and dial Andy’s number. It seems like an eternity while the call connects and the ringing audio plays before he picks it up, though in reality, I'm sure it's only about ten seconds.

  “Sup,” he greets me.

  “Hey, I've decided to take you up on that offer of joining you on your outing tonight.”

  “Great! I'm glad you finally decided to come around. I’ll be there to pick you up soon.”

  “Alright, I’ll catch you then,” I say shortly before ending the very brief call.

  I await his arrival outdoors with great anticipation. I know it's Andy approaching when I see the nearly blindingly bright headlights of his black Mercedes and hear the familiar sound of tires grinding against the concrete road and slowing down near me. I open the door, sit down on the comfortable leather seat, and close the door. Andy and I exchange greetings and then we're off.

  “So what's the name of this place we’re going to anyway?” I ask a few minutes later.

  “This is one I haven’t been to before, but I heard they have good music, drinks, and billiards,” he says before telling me the name.

  “Playing pool does sound like a lot of fun. I used to be good at it, but I'm not sure if I am anymore, since I haven't played in forever.”

  We continue to converse along the way to our destination. When we get there, about twenty minutes later, Andy finds a parking spot and announces that we've arrived. Feeling somewhat uncertain of what exactly to expect inside, my hands remain in my pockets as we enter through the glass doors. I stay near Andy to be sure I don't lose him in this dense crowd of people. The song “Everytime We Touch” is playing through the loudspeakers, and on the dance floor, bright lights flash in all sorts of colors, including cyan, magenta, yellow, and green. Deciding what our first activity should be, Andy and I note that people are already playing billiards on most of the pool tables.

  “There’s an available one over there,” I say, pointing to its location.

  We get a set of cue sticks and set up a game of 8-ball. Once we agree that I'll be starting this round, I give the cue some chalk and line up my opening shot. I strike the white ball with considerable force into the cluster of colored spheres arranged in a triangle, making the characteristic smack that billiard balls make when they hit each other.

  “Impressive! You got three in,” Andy compliments my break.

  “I guess I can still play this after all.”

  For the next shot, I aim below the center of the cue ball, causing it to pull back after hitting the object ball and into the line of my next shot. Out of the very corner of my eye, I can see that I caught the attention of a very attractive-looking blonde woman. How can I not notice her when her light-blonde hair shines from all the way across the room like that? When I glance over to her, she seems to cover her mouth and giggle, whispering something to her equally attractive friend. I get that butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling as she continues watching me play from a distance—but not with the annoyed and disinterested look that I've come to expect from attractive women. I try my best to convince myself that I'm just imagining things; why would a woman like that ever be impressed by anything I'm doing? I shift my focus back to the game and make another shot, sinking another ball.

  “Alright, looks like I’m solids, and you’re stripes,” I announce.

  I'm unable to pocket the next ball, so it's Andy's turn. He picks up his cue, chalks up, and makes his shot.

 
“You’re not too bad at this yourself,” I say as he sinks a ball of his own from a difficult angle.

  On the last shot of the game, I find myself in a tricky situation: All of the solids have been pocketed, and only the 8-ball remains for me to sink, but a cluster of spread-out striped balls are directly blocking my route to it. There's also another ball blocking any possibility of using the rail, so the only way I'll be able to get the 8-ball into the corner pocket is by performing a masse shot—something I haven't attempted in years. I figure it's at least still worth a try though. I remember that the ball, after curving, will ultimately travel into a line parallel to that made by the ball's initial resting point and the place where the cue tip is aimed. With the back end of the stick elevated, I strike the cue ball at an off-center spot and watch as it curves, hitting the 8-ball into the hole and winning me the first game. I can't believe that actually worked. We play another three rounds of 8-ball, one of which Andy wins, and the other two I win. We then play a match of 9-ball once, which subsequently he wins.

  “Well, that was cool! Let’s go get something to drink now,” Andy suggests.

  We find a pair of empty seats and claim them, after which we both order ourselves an ice-cold root beer and talk about various things. He asks me what I've been doing lately, and I explain to him that I haven't been doing much of anything on account of lacking energy.

  “I mostly just sleep and watch television these days,” I tell him.

  “That’s too bad. Good thing you at least decided to come here with me today.”

  “Have you managed to get your computer fixed yet? I remember you complaining before about it acting funny,” I say, shifting the topic.

  “Yep, I just got it back from the repair technician yesterday, and it seems to be working fine so far,” Andy answers.

  “That’s nice then. Hopefully, it didn’t cost too much to fix it though.”

  “It wasn't too bad, I'd say.” He glances to our right and says, “I think that babe over there is checking you out!”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous. You should know enough about me to know that isn’t possible,” I say back to him.

  “Well, whatever you say,” he replies, simply shrugging his shoulders. A second later, he adds, “I’ll be right back. I have to go use the bathroom. Be sure to save my seat.”

  Andy then gets up and makes his way toward the sign pointing to the restrooms. While I'm in the middle of waiting, I hear a female voice coming from next to me say something.

  “Hey!”

  “Hi…” I say quietly without even lifting my head and turning to take a look at whom this greeting is coming from.

  “I saw you playing pool earlier over there with your friend. You’re really good!” she says, her voice sweet like honey.

  When I finally turn to get a look at her, I'm instantly stunned by how dazzling she is. She's got straight light-blonde hair that goes down to a little past her shoulders. At the top of her head, some of the strands are darker, which I find adorable. Her dark-brown eyes sparkle like the most beautiful gemstones, and her lips are a soft shade of pink, matching the color of the shirt she's wearing. Her ear is peeking out just a little from behind her hair as though she wants me to tell her something. When our eyes first make contact, she tilts her head slightly and smiles at me. She twirls her hair in her fingers and bats her eyelashes at me whilst asking what my name is. I tell it to her and then ask for hers.

  “I’m Misty. Nice to meet you!” she says cheerfully as she reaches her hand out toward me. She even has such cute hands, her fingernails painted with silvery-white nail polish. When we shake hands, hers feels pretty small in mine. I hold it for a little while longer than I probably should, yet she doesn't seem to mind that I don't want to let her hand go for those few extra seconds.

  “You sound fun. Do you wanna hang out sometime?” Misty asks.

  “Sure, I'd be down for that,” I respond.

  “I’ll give you my phone number,” she offers.

  “Okay, you can add me as a contact on my cell phone,” I suggest, trusting her enough to hand it to her so that she can type the digits in.

  “There you go,” she says, returning it to me.

  “I’ll see you soon then.”

  “Alright, take care!” she says before standing up and walking away, waving her hand to me and smiling.

  A minute later, Andy returns from his restroom break.

  “You’ll never believe what just happened to me!” I say to him as he approaches.