Page 16 of Beautiful Small Things

“Correction. You called me thirty seconds ago, Dumbass.”

“I love it when you’re mean to me,” he jokes. “It’s hot.”

“What? You’ve lost your mind. Where are you?”

He rattles off the address to a neighborhood not far from mine.

“Go wait outside. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I instruct him, sliding into my flip-flops.

“I am outside. I’m a lawn ornament,” he laughs.

Oh, for the love of God. “Just stay in the front. I’ll be there soon.”

Grabbing my keys, I head out the door to rescue my idiot cousin from whatever he’s gotten himself into.

I arrive in front of the house seven minutes later to find Orion sitting laying on the front lawn with a red solo cup in his hand, balanced on his stomach. I’m fairly certain he’s asleep so I roll down the window and yell at him.

“Orion! Ditch the drink and get in the car.”

“You’re here!” he shouts as he struggles to get up.

“Yes, very astute,” I say, shifting my car into park and getting out to help him.

“Come on, Cousin,” I say, putting my arms around him and helping him get to his feet. He swings his arm over my shoulder and speaks two inches from my face.

“We are cousins,” he says, stumbling. “But also not.”

“Shut up and hold on to me,” I tell him, opening the passenger-side door to help him in. He laughs against my neck as I pull the seat belt over his shoulder and buckle it.

“You smell good,” he says, flicking my hair with his fingers.

“Well, you don’t,” I counter.

“That hurts,” he pouts.

“You’ll live. If you think you’re going to vomit, you better tell me and then hang your head out of the side.”

He leans back into the seat and turns his head to look at me. His eyes are twinkling and he has a silly smile on his face. “You’re pretty,” he says.

My eyes widen in shock as I meet his green eyes briefly. “What are you talking about? You’re being so odd tonight.”

“Some girls tonight said you are strange and inaccessible. But you’re not. Your accessible to me.”

“Accessible to you. That makes no sense,” I say, shaking my head.

“I like your hair,” he says, again reaching over and winding a piece of my honey-colored hair between his fingers. His behavior is very bewildering. I ignore him and keep driving.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Purple Rain?”

“What?” I shriek. “That is none of your business, Orion.”

“But it could beeeee,” he sings.

I’ve had enough of whatever he is doing. I pull off the road, shift into park and turn to face him. “Orion, you are drunk and acting inappropriately.”

“What are you wearing?” he asks, looking over my bare legs.

“I was in bed. I’m wearing a baggy tee shirt and boy shorts. This is what I sleep in.”