The Boy Who Wore Boat Shoes

06⎜The Sweet Tea

06⎜The Sweet Tea

           “Bye, roomie!” called my dear roommate, Seth, in almost a mocking way as I was somewhat-forcefully whisked out of the comfort of my own room by two escorts who couldn’t have been politer and had accents.

           “Bye, Seth,” I bid, my arm being grabbed as I was pulled towards the door. I didn’t bother taking anything from the room, because I already had my wallet and phone on me, and had been assured prior to the occasion that everything else would be provided. Because of the particular place that we were going, I thought it best to wear plaid shorts and a Polo shirt. Judging by one of the coercing parties and his attire, I was completely accurate in my fashion assumption.

           I was removed from my dorm room, the female attendant babbling her blonde head off as the three of us walked. She was saying something about the sky and sun and I didn’t really pay any mind, for I just liked hearing her talk. The human tank on my other side was relatively quiet, interjecting every so often to protest or comment on what his girlfriend was saying.

           When we reached the parking lot behind my dorm building, there was a large silver pick-up truck that wasn’t the clichéd run-down-paint-chipping-rusting-everywhere type of truck. No, this was one was practically sparkling in the California morning sun, not even a speck of dirt visible on its exterior. I had never really been into cars (I had an SUV back home that was probably to blame for at least 5% of global warming), but I knew when to appreciate a nice one. This truck was more than nice. As Kay Rodgers would say, it was just wonderful.

           “Well, Eric, this is my baby,” Houston told me as I stared awestruck at the vehicle before me.

           “Hey!” Kay said in an objecting tone that didn’t suit her well. “I thought I was your baby!”

           “Personally, I prefer the truck,” he smirked, decreasing his likelihood of getting laid in the future a considerable amount.

           “You know, Houston, you can be a real asshole sometimes,” Kay told him, crossing her arms across her chest so that her orange blouse crinkled in the center, ever so slightly. I quickly glanced down at her feet, wondering why she had elected to wear a pair of overly expensive flip-flops, when we were going to a place with dirt. Our destination also made me question her choice of a knee-length patterned skirt, but she was Kay Rodgers, so fashion was something non-negotiable in her world—no matter where she was headed.

           Ignoring Kay for a moment, Houston just shook his head as he admired his ride. “Her name’s Elle, ‘cause in the alphabet, ‘L’ comes after ‘K,’ and that’s the same thing with in my life, because my truck always comes after my girl,” he said to me, making sure that Kay heard it loud and clear so that he could snag up a few stray lay-ability points in his arsenal.

           Not shockingly at all, Kay then gushed at his words, ramming into him and wrapping her arms securely around his neck. “See, and then sometimes you can be such a gentleman, Houston Walker!” she cried, kissing him on the cheek before letting go.

           “I’m always a gentleman,” Houston claimed with a shake of his head.

           “I can name at least five people who will disagree, but I’m still blushin’ at what you said, so I won’t,” Kay muttered, not being able to contain the giant smile that appeared on her face. “I love you so dang much, Houston Walker!” She continued to grin as she trotted over to the passenger’s seat, allowing me to speculate that I would be sitting in the back, alone.