Prompt: Use the following sentence as the start of your entry: I heard the car door slam and immediately looked at the clock.
I heard the car door slam and immediately looked at the clock. That was fast. I listen to his footsteps travel up the stairs, keys jingling even though he left the door unlocked.
“That was fast,” I tell him as he walks in the door.
“Yeah, no traffic,” he replies, ditching his shoes in the corner and heading to the kitchen.
“Want some help?” I offer, letting my book flop down to rest on my chin.
“Nah, I wouldn’t want you to get in the way,” he replies, slipping around the corner into the kitchen.
I can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice, but before I can formulate a witty retort, his head pops around the corner.
“Especially when it’s… BLENDER NIGHT!” he says, producing vodka and juice.
“That’s cheating,” I tell him. “You know I can’t be mad when you’re holding vodka.”
“I do know that. It’s wonderful.”
He ducks back into the kitchen, leaving me to shake my head and resume reading while he concocts. The whir of the blender is almost deafening, the cheap metal blades struggling against the surely obscene amount of ice he put in. Reading is impossible in such a din.
I ditch my book and power on his laptop, walking into the kitchen. I wait for a pause in the blending, positive that I’m rapidly losing my hearing to this noise.
“You need a better blender,” I tell him. “Or at least a quieter one. Login?”
He frowns at me and takes the computer, giving me a chance to steal a taste.
“Oooh, blue raspberry. Nice.”
“Hey!” he yells, slapping my hands away. “Stop that. I’m not done making kitchen magic.”
“Ugh, remind me to sit on the other side of the room. Wouldn’t want to crowd your ego.”
He snorts and hands me the computer.
“Now shoo. I’m working.”
“Yeah, yeah. Any preference on the movie?” I ask, meandering back to the living room couch.
“Surprise me!” he yells, blender whirring back to life.
I scroll through the Netflix library looking for sci-fi, hoping for something with an escaped monster from a government lab or aliens attacking a summer camp. Tom comes in just as I decide, two giant cups of blue slushie in tow.
“Ta-da!” he says, brandishing the cups, slushie coming precariously close to escaping.
“Easy there, killer,” I say. “Sit down before you hurt yourself.”
“It’s slushie, Ashley,” he retorts. “It’s not going to kill me.”
“No, but having to clean your carpet might,” I reply, sticking my tongue out.
He glares, plopping down on the couch next to me and offering a cup with a ridiculous flourish. I accept, inclining my head in what I hope is a regal gesture.
“What are we watching?” he asks, leaning back as I hit play and set the computer on the coffee table.
“Sharknado,” I reply, grinning evilly as he groans.
“Oh my god even the name makes me want to die. Why. Why do you do this to me. WHO HURT YOU?!”
“I’ll have you know that I both loved sharks and wanted to be a storm chaser when I was a kid. This movie is my mecca, Tom.”
I cackle as he shakes his head. I recline back onto the couch, poking him with my foot til he lets me rest them on his lap. The movie is exactly what I expected, full of ridiculous action sequences and horrible CGI. By the time the credits begin to roll, my cheeks hurt from laughing so much.
I love blender night.