Ben Segal and Rodrick Heffley grew up practically joined at the hip. Rodrick spent his adolescence dreaming about the perfect romance with the perfect girl, while Ben longed to spend the rest of his life with his childhood best friend. Yet, every cl...
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"I fucked up to the fullest extent possible."
Ben lay on Juliette's queen-sized bed, her airy, spacious bedroom serving as a stark contrast to the rest of her home. It was neat, and clean, yet the bright yellow walls, general clutter, and guitar cords and auxes littering the ground in an unorganized fashion. On every surface, there was at least one succulent, or Funko Pop, or miniature trinket from a family vacation. The remainder of the Asmodeus residence, however, was whiter than the sanitized lobby of Plainview Heights.
"What did you do this time, Benjamin," Juliette sighed, throwing a book at him from the floor. "You can't've fucked up as bad as Rodrick did at the country club last time I was there. Some guy gave him mouth-to-mouth CPR! Must've bruised his massive ego a bit."
"Well...actually...I think I may have set a new record for shitty mouth-to-mouth."
Juliette gawked at Ben, shocked. "You're joking. Was he that bad?"
Ben's eyes widened, his face reddening in embarrassment. "Well, actually, I was the one that was shit. It didn't last for more than five seconds. He ran off to my house, grabbed his things, and went home. And, well, I feel really fucking bad, because I could tell he wasn't ready to see his folks."
"Maybe you scared him away with your phenomenal kissing skills," Juliette remarked, sarcastically. "Who do you think we're talking about, Ben?! Rodrick has experience. Rodrick has a past. This is the Rodrick Heffley that's probably hooked up with at least a dozen chicks at this point—"
Ben shifted in the bed, uncomfortably. "Or maybe, he's just...not queer, Julie. I really couldn't care less about his past. It's his life, not mine."
"Oh, my bad. I'll admit that I do feel a little bit sorry for him, though. I don't wanna tell him Heather doesn't like him back, but I'm starting to think I'm gonna have to. It feels like I'm leading a lamb to slaughter, ya'know? Though I do have to ask...what compelled you to, well, kiss Rodrick? Straight, aggressive, pretty boy Roddyroo?"
Ben stuffed his face into Juliette's pillow. "I don't know. He was talking about how perfect his stupid life was, and he looked so damn hot, and we were walking in the sunset and shit! It felt straight out of a god awful romance film! Can you really blame me?"
"The love interest of a romance film doesn't run away from the main character during the grand gesture, Segal," Juliette smirked.
"Do you even have the right to talk?!" Ben retorted, almost-frustrated. "When was the last time you've spoken to Lucy?"
"We're going skating tonight. No biggie," Juliette retaliated, this time throwing any object within arm's reach at Ben—which happened to be Ben's stuffed cat, Mr. Mittens. "When was the last time you talked to Roddy?"
"I haven't heard anything from him aside from his follow-ups for Heather's party in the Loded Diper chat. I hope that Frank hasn't done anything bad to him—"
