Smooth - Matt Bates
“Well that was pointless.” I said shaking my head.
“Resistance is futile.” Ryan said in response.
“That has nothing to do with what were talking about. Do you even know what that means?”
“No, not really. I just want to add to the conversation.”
Ryan and I had been best friends since we could remember. We could finish each others…sandwiches, I mean sentences. I know his favorite color, birthday, somehow his social security number and go-to order at McDonalds. We are heterosexual life mates, especially when we were in middle and high school. Wherever I was, you could usually find Ryan and vice versa.
I had always been the brains of the operation while Ryan added a drive for fun and odd ability to get the opposite sex to acknowledge us - sometimes. We had started a band together, primarily because were were bored, and even more primarily, to get girls to talk to us. Sometimes it work and sometimes it did not. More times than not it did not work. What did we expect? Combined we weight maybe 185 pounds, had the athletic ability of sloth, and could recite most of Star Wars beginning to end. Essentially - girl repelant. So, we had to do something to make ourselves interesting.
It was a sunny Friday afternoon, as we hung near the vending machines, instruments of caffeine acquisition and—more importantly—prime social territory. That’s when we saw them: Jess and Kate, two juniors who looked like they belonged in a coming-of-age Netflix original, complete with denim jackets and that aura of mild disinterest that screamed, We’re too cool for this place.
Matt nudged Ryan. “Dude. This is it. Time to deploy Operation: Hey Ladies.”
Ryan cracked his knuckles like a man about to perform surgery. “Showtime, baby.”
We sauntered over, trying very hard to appear casual and not at all like two dudes who had spent the last fifteen minutes rehearsing this exact approach behind the cafeteria dumpster.
I led with a line so smooth it might as well have been sandpaper. “Hey… so, we’re in a band.”
Jess blinked. “Cool?”
Ryan jumped in, trying to rescue the moment with the subtle finesse of a wrecking ball. “Yeah, we play shows sometimes. You know, battle of the bands. Open mic nights. My cousin’s backyard.”
“Last week we almost had 14 people in the crowd,” Matt added proudly, omitting the fact that most of them were confused passersby’s, his overly supportive mom, and one raccoon.
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “What kind of music?”
“Uh, kind of like... alternative grunge-core with a hint of pop-punk fusion,” Ryan said, as if that was a real genre and not something they just made up on the spot.
There was a long pause. Jessica looked at Kate. Kate looked at Jess. Then both looked at Ryan and Matt like they had just confessed to being really into taxidermy.
“Anyway,” Jess said, pulling out her phone and pretending to scroll with a conviction that deserved an Oscar, “we’ve got… class. Or something.”
And just like that, the girls walked away—leaving behind only the faint scent of disappointment and our crushed dignity.