The breaking gets easier

Here’s a snippet from a short story, also just discovered in the many transferred documents. 

Characters:

Dulce: 22, makeup artist, working on an indie film, crushing on the lead actor, Jared.

Jared: Recent college theatre grad who cannot act for shit, cocky mofo.

       I dabbed the Rose Red blush on my hand and mixed in the Mocha Brown on top. Monty Python blared from the TV as I rubbed the two blushes together. What appeared was a burnt brown, the way a bad tan appears. I wrote this combination down and was about to mix other colors when my door buzzed. It was one AM, way past normal visiting hours. I cautiously walked to my intercom to hear who was at the other end.

       “Dulce!” the familiar male voice slurred.

       I immediately jumped away from the intercom, afraid that Jared could somehow see me. Fiercely, I began to pull my hair out of my messy bun and brushed my fingers throughout it, attempting to achieve the “wild and sexy without even trying” look. The door rang again, and this time, I buzzed him inside. I heard his loud steps all the way to my door, which he pounded on. Probably too quickly, I swung open the door and there he was, his hair a mess, a nice black button down shirt that appeared to have once been tucked in, and a fifth of already started Skyy.

       “Dulce,” he said, stumbling onto me for either a hug or an aid to his balance, I couldn’t tell. “Oh God, you’re so pretty,” he said, touching my hair.

       I leaned him against the counter and took a few steps away. “What are you doing here?” I asked. I could feel the rage building within me.

       He handed me the bottle of vodka before answering, “I really wanted to see you! You’re like my best friend. Drinks ended early with the group.”

       “Jared, you’re wasted,” I stated, with more sadness than I had intended. Most of me was disappointed because he didn’t randomly buzz my door when he was sober, the other part of me dreaded the following morning. College theatre had given me enough experience to know that a night full of drinking made for a much more difficult makeup application the next day. Jared’s naturally tan skin tone would be washed out, and I would have to apply a darker base to reach consistency.

       He ran his hand across his face, as if to gain some composure so that I would take him seriously. Then, as he slowly slid away from the counter, he asked, “Is it OK if I crash here?”

       So here it was, the moment I’d been dreaming about…only in my dreams, Jared declared his love for me sometime before asking to spend the night. Oh…and there’d be a boom box and a Peter Gabriel song somewhere in the mix as well. I sighed, disappointed in myself for actually being excited about this stupid situation. Nevertheless, it was still Jared, and though his eyes were glossy with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, they still tugged at my breath.

       “I’ll get some blankets,” I said, walking past him.

       He touched my hand, and gently pulled me back to where he was standing, bringing me dangerously close. My stomach flipped as he rested his arms around my waist and looked deep into my eyes. Sensually, he whispered, “Thanks, Dulce. I really appreciate this.”

       His warm breath on my face sent chills down my spine, and before my senses could memorize the moment, Jared’s lips pressed onto mine. Sure, the kiss was sloppy and tasted of booze, but it was a kiss nonetheless! He guided me towards the couch, and as his hand reached under my shirt, I remembered that he was drunk.

       Pushing myself away from him, I said, “We have an early day tomorrow. Let me grab those blankets.”

       He sighed and plunked onto the couch, disappointedly. Was he upset that I had stopped his drunken advances because he really cared about me, or because he just wanted some action? Was the morning going to be awkward? Would he remember anything? Would he try to establish his love for me in the morning when he was sober—apologize for his rude behavior, only to reveal that getting drunk was the only way he’d ever have the courage to show me how he really felt? The worst part of all this was that I would never forget the crappy kiss.

       I grabbed the extra blankets and pillows from the closet and walked back to the family room only to find Jared already passed out on the couch. Oh yeah, he was crazy for me. With a brand new tear in my heart, I turned off the TV and packed up my makeup kit. I covered Jared with a blanket and forced myself away from gawking.