Mondays Suck

Treya tapped he pencil boredly on the desk in no particular pattern. It was definitely a Monday, and a pretty hardcore shity one at that, she could feel it in her bones. Her thoughts drifted to that summer. Tap tap. Blake… Tap tap tap. Late nights. Tap tap. Warm air. Tap. Camping trips. Tap. All night shows. Tap. The smells. The tastes. 
“Treya!” she was snapped out of her dream by her teacher’s monotone.
“Stop tapping your pencil on the desk.”  She mumbled an apology and leaned back in her chair. 
School had been going on for almost two months now, and it was killing her, she desperately missed summer. Her thoughts drifted again, but they rested on one thing in particular. One person.
Blake had been her summer fling. It was an unexpected romance, they just sort of met up and started hanging out. But things progressed quickly, evolving magically with the help of all the things she had thought of before. They took camping trips together, and went to shows, sharing memories, alcohol, drugs and their bodies along the way. They blissfully surrendered to the hormones and soaked in each other’s warmth under the stars. They spent almost every moment in each other’s company.
But then summer ended, and two weeks before school, they decided to call things off for no real reason, reluctantly. And now school had become torture, monotonous and bland, and she missed Blake terribly.
She was wrenched out of her thoughts again by a vibration from her pocket. She removed her cell phone and held it out of sight of the teacher. “NEW TEXT MESSAGE” it what the digital screen read and it was from Blake.

“U bored like me?” was what it said.
She replied.
“Out of my mind”
“Go to the BR. I’ll meet you there.”
“You cant go in the Girls BR silly”
“Haha smart ass. Just leave class and meet me”

She did as her text said and walked out into the hall, giving the teacher a normal lame excuse . She saw him there next to the water fountain, his gorgeous smile holding untold mischief.
“Come on.” He said once she was in ear shot, and headed toward the school entrance.
“We’re just gonna leave?” she asked.
“Shhhhhhh!!!” he said, and cast his head around for any faculty. Seeing none he explained ,” Yes, we’re just gonna leave. I’m tired of this place, my head needs to rest.” He jingled his keys at her and started walking again.
The same old songs blared in Blake’s car. Treya was surprised they had made it out of the building, much less to Blake’s car. But miraculously they made it, and were already half way to….Well, Treya wasn’t sure where they were going really. 
“Where are we going?” she asked partly to know, partly to break the awkward silence.
“I moved into my own place, so we can just go hang out there,” He said warmly. ”If that’s ok?” he added.
“Its fine.” She said with a small smile. “Why’d you move out?”
“I got tired of my dad.”
“Oh…..” she trailed off, not really knowing what to say. She had heard many times about Blake’s dad and his binge drinking. Her mom had been an alcoholic a long time ago and recovered, but she still understood how it was. But her mom had eventually wanted help, and Blake’s dad’s problem seemed unending.
“Sorry about that” she said with a hint of sadness.
“Its cool.”, the severity of the problem rolled off his back
“I can smoke when ever I want to now.” He said and cast her a mischievous grin. She smiled back, and even laughed a little, she remembered about how he shown her the joys of recreational drugs. He always had plenty of the M.J. and sometimes other kinds too, usually prescription pills. She had experimented a little here and there and enjoyed it, but never used as heavily as he did.
“That must be nice.” She commented. She wanted to continue but she was interrupted.
“We’re here.”
They had pulled into a house on the “poor” side of town. The house was pretty nice compared to the ones around it and she wondered for a moment how he could afford it, but that was quickly dismissed by the obvious. Blake wasn’t just a user, but a dealer too. It was dangerous, but it paid well. During her realization they had exited the car and migrated to the front door.
“Welcome to the kingdom!” he said flashing his spectacular smile once again. The first thing she noticed was orange carpet, a shag that looked pretty nasty and covered every floor in the house (though she didn’t know that yet). Next she was overwhelmed by the heavy smell of pot, almost enough to knock you down, but to Treya it was sort of comforting, a piece of many memories. The house was dark and the first room was an obvious “living room”, meaning there was a ragged couch, a TV, and tattered arrangement of electronics. Blake was leading the grand tour as they passed through the kitchen (also carpeted) and into a hallway.
He stopped at a door and opened it,
“And this is my room.”
The door didn’t exactly swing open, but got stuck on a pile of clothes.   
“Sorry” he said kicking the clothes out of the way, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. The clothes weren’t actually in a pile, but they covered most of the floor and hung from the dresser drawers, it looked like his closet had exploded. The bed was large and unmade and on the bedside table was a whole range of marijuana paraphernalia, including bags of M.J. itself, and an ipod and its dock.  Blake walked pass her and planted himself on the bed.
“Make yourself at home.”  He said and patted the bed beside him. She tried the best she could to step over the clothes and sat down beside him. He had shifted away and turned on the Ipod, an old and familiar Spill Canvas began to play, and he proceeded roll a joint. It was like Déjà vu to Treya, this had happened before. The smell, the sound, the place was off a little, but it was mostly just like old times.
Especially the feeling, she wanted so much to kiss him, to tell him that she wasn’t over him, that she wanted things to be like they were. But she couldn’t, she didn’t know how he felt, and she had so much to loose. He had just started talking to her again, what if the upbringing of her feelings pushed him away? She just couldn’t take that chance yet.
He had finished rolling the joint, lit it, and took a long drag on it.
“You want some?” he asked after holding his breath and exhaling with a few coughs. He waved the joint in front of her.
“No thanks, I quit after we stopped  hanging out.”
“That’s too bad,” he said after exhaling again, then as sort of and after thought ,”Why did we stop hanging out?” The mood of the room had changed, he looked at her very seriously.
She looked back into his amazing green eyes just as gravely he was looking at her.
“I don’t know.” she said sadly.
“Me either. I wish we had never stopped.” he said, but his voice lacked the sorrow that was present in Treya’s. The mood had changed, he was smiling again. Things were now out of Treya’s hands. 
Blake put out the joint, laid it on the table, and turned up the music. He turned to her again, smiling and putting his hands gently on her face. She was completely in his control now, and inched closer to him and closed her eyes as he pulled her face into his.
Their lips met and a very heavy tension seemed to melt away, and in its place seeped a hot but light passion. The memory was now complete. Now she also smelled his skin along with the weed, and his taste was as it had always been, also with hints of the pot. A song was playing by Motion City Soundtrack, one of Treya’s favorites, as they fell to their doom in the sheets.
Their hands moved faster than lightning, and before she knew it, her clothes had joined Blake’s masses of them on the floor.  They explored each other, like visiting a place they hadn’t been in a while, making sure everything was where they left it. They knew exactly what to do to make the most of every inch of skin.
Finally push came to shove. It was everything Treya remembered and more, it was amazing. It was as if with every movement they were apologizing to each other for separating. All too soon it was over, but was just enough for now, they had plenty of time to catch up.
One of the best things on a hardcore shity Monday, is a midmorning nap in the arms of your lover.