Saturday Night Live

SNL | Chapter 7

He still hadn't said a thing, the pausing look in his eyes weren't helping all that well either. I was starting to wonder if this was some joke. Maybe he had no clue to what to do next. Not that I was relying on it since Fletch really didn't know what to do with his life half the time. Wait, so why was I trusting him with mine? Damn. He really gave me time to think about this. I hated that I loved him as much as I do.

“We tie him up, throw him in the linen closet and go on living our lives.” Fletcher had the audacity to smile shortly after that suggesting remark. I was hoping he wasn't serious and just trying to be funny.

I slapped his arm. “Fletch!” He laughed.

“Okay, okay. I'm kidding. Sort of.” I scowled at him with a smack of my lips and folded my arms under my chest, shifting my weight. He sighed in mischievous defeat. “Alright.” Then like a light bulb turning on, he flashed a bright smile down at me with a knowingly gleam in his eyes making the brown in them seem gold. He has the same eyes as Ha- Robert, I thought as Fletch started to explain his plan but his words were muted due to me flying off into daydreaming. Wow, I was really now starting to see Fletch for Fletch. He reminded me, as of now...a young Robert Downey Jr. Oh, my God. My stomach filled with butterflies I wasn't sure I wanted to feel. What did this mean? I was falling for Fletcher? Oh, please no! OF COURSE NOT!

Next thing I knew I was gasping and squealing after feeling something run down my hair and steam down my face like tears running from my hairline. I wiped away the water and growled.

“FLETCHER,” I shrieked in a piercing squeal. “What the fuck was that for?!“ I pop him in the chest only to soar crackling pain in my knuckles. I cursed and wiggled my wrist, shaking out my fingers and the pain as Fletch just stood there with a puff in his cheeks to shuffle back laughter.

”You haven't heard a thing I've said,“ he asserted impatiently as he watched me get a kitchen towel to rust through my hair and squeeze out the water from the strands of hair that become one from getting wet. I scoffed and huffed at his words only because he was right and didn't want to admit what I was thinking at the moment. That'll be weird and I definitely didn't want that to come between us. ”And you're still not listening!“ He sighed in exaggeration, throwing up his hands and then filling his mouth with water he had took from me while I was in my own world. I didn't even feel the bottle slip out my fingers. He must've did it to see if I was paying attention and when he figured I wasn't, he waterfalled my head.

”I'm listening, I'm listening. What?“ I'm satisfied with my hair now that it's not all the way wet anymore, not that I minded it but I didn't feel like blow drying it again. The fluff in that part of my hair was gone. Now it just hung like twine.

He lowered the edge of the bottle's neck from his lips to reassure, ”You sure?“ before rising it back to take in more water. I scoffed again and extended my arms out to the side.

”Come on, Fletch,“ I whined sympathetically and made way back to him. I stood my ground in front of him, stomping the floor like a respectful army officer or something to declare he had my full attention. Water seeped through the line of his lips when he pursed them in a smile because there was still some in his mouth. He swayed his head just a crook, muffling a small chuckle from his nose. He finally swallowed the water and silently clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

”Alright, Puppy. Now that I know you're here with me,“ He placed the bottle of the island counter. ”I'll tell you what we can do with him. Do I really have to repeat myself?“ Before I could protest, he went on in a small laugh. ”Kidding. I don't mind repeating myself for you, Puppy.“ He nudged me. ”I'd do anything I can for you when I can.“ I inhaled to speak against that— ”Now,“ I held my breath and purred the air out. ”I think we can use this guy to our advantage, Puppy. He's literally a walking celebrity.“

I scrunched my face quizzically. What did he mean?

”I'll tell you what I mean,“ Fletch advised my thoughts. ”We know your career's in shambles, right? Eh! We aren't going to talk about whyyy. Just that is it. Alright now...imagine, Puppy. Imagine. You're seen with this guy, doing whatever; shopping, lunching, walking—whatever. The media will eat this up. You'll probably blow up from this! We can use this guy to get you where you want to be! God, Puppy! You'll rise straight to the top. The media will write all kinds of stuff about you. You'll go viral everywhere.“

Fletcher unfortunately lost me again as I imagined what it'd be like to use Hank as a pasty for my career. Imagining it made my heart beat in my throat and I felt suffocated because of it. I mean did Fletch know what he was suggesting? Use Robert—Hank as an accessory to rise my standards in life. I mean, I couldn't even think of that because I'd would never have thought of it. Why would I want to use that charming, precious, hormonal, extraordinary, extremely hot—may I go on?— man? It was improbable.

I think he was still going on and on about how we were going to go through with this but I had almost stopped listening, the words not even reaching my ears. They floated around me like dizzy stars and it was shooting an achy buzz through my temples.

”Fletch!“ I finally learned to speak again with disbelief riding out with my words. ”Do you know what you're saying? I mean...really saying?“ Fletch drew a line with his lips, pouting them together as he stopped speaking.

”Uh, yeah,“ he confined with perplexity, ”I'm saying what I'm saying, 'cause I know what I'm saying so I'm saying it to say it to say to you. Oh, God. I hope you're listening to what I'm saying because I'm not saying it for no cock-a-doodle reason.“

”Shh.“ I rose my finger to my lips not to only keep him from using "saying" again but because the house was so quiet, the only noise was being made in it was Fletch and I. Huh. Hank was being awfully quiet. My heart began to race again fearfully. Did he leave? Fletch must caught on to what I was pondering about because he turned to the livingroom then looked back at me. My eyes were bugged. ”Did he leave,“ I whispered. Fletch shrugged. ”That can't happen.“ I hurried out the kitchen, path crossing the hall straightforwardly into the livingroom. Hank was nowhere to be seen. ”Oh, no. Fletch!“ I sagged like soggy bread.

He was at my side by the time I habitually leaned in against him because I knew he was going to be there. He frowned and folded his arms around my abdomen, holding my wrists. He leaned his jaw into my head. Fletch couldn't feel happier now that that man was out of our lives now and didn't have to worry about thing. Everything could go back to normal.

”I'm sorry, Puppy,“ he whispered in my hair. ”Think of it this way. You can now tweet about it and take a picture of the couch he sat on.“ I sniffed at his words and blinked my tear filled eyes. I magnified them to the couch. The couch! Of course! I broke free from Fletch's wrap, took a couple steps to the couch and looked down. I happily sighed a relief, propping my hands onto the back of it and gazed down at Hank who was laying there on his side, but his feet were still on the floor. I guess he hadn't made a sound even if he didn't mean to make it because he had fallen asleep. Well, that's good.