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Viewing Single Post From: People II 2: Still Peoplin'
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"Hey, sorry the party ain't workin' out for ya. Your comin' down here certainly made my night if that's like, any consolation?"

The expression on Caedyn's face suggested that it was not.

Well, fuck it. His good time wasn't conditional on hers, and it wasn't like he had a reputation to protect, or like anyone really gave a shit what Caedyn Miller thought about anything. Johnny wouldn't even have replied to her dig about him being a boyfucker, except a tiny, terrified part of his brain wasn't quite sure she was joking.

She hadn't seemed drunk, Johnny was sure of that, but if Caedyn was drunk enough to not know who he was, that was bad. That was as fucking bad as bad could fucking be, and bad could be, as Johnny was well aware, pretty fucking bad. A little drunk was fine, sure. Without girls getting a little drunk Johnny would still be a virgin. Drunk enough to mistake who he was, though? A girl gets as drunk as that, and she wakes up the next day, and maybe she's not feeling so great about who was in her the night before, and she was drunk... shit, she could say anything.

Would people believe anything Caedyn said? Johnny envisioned himself in front of a cop, or a judge, or a jury, and knew that every one of them would. He could feel his heart begin to rush in his chest, and each breath came harder than the last. He felt like the room was enclosing in on him, the walls creeping imperceptibly closer. He had the sudden, insane urge just to go - to run out of here, clothes be damned, and be somewhere, anywhere else.

Johnny took a long, shaky drag on his cigarette. He was suddenly aware of how tall Caedyn was: six inches taller than him at least, and that couldn't fail to be a good thing. Nobody would look at the two of them and think he could overpower her.

Had anyone seen the two of them come up here together? Johnny didn't think so, but how could he be sure. He'd used a condom, thank God, and that would certainly be coming with him when he left, no way was he leaving that shit for the cops to find.

But she didn't seem drunk. There'd been mint on her breath, Johnny remembered, not alcohol. A hopeful voice in the back of his head grew ever louder, reassuring him that she was joking, that everything would be okay.

He took another drag on his cigarette and tried to arrange his face into an expression that didn't show how much he wanted to vomit.

"You, uhh, you know I'm not that Johnny, right? The other Johnny's the gay one. I'm straight Johnny. Johnny Ray, not Johnny gay, yeah?"

Even to his own ears his voice sounded weak and pitiful, and he was struck by sudden and uncharacteristic self consciousness. Johnny folded his legs at the knee.

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People II 2: Still Peoplin' · The Neighborhood