Fuck, You're a Riot

Somehow, Gerard ended up cuddled next to me, on the couch. My head in his lap, stroking my hair. I got up. I needed a cigarette.
I grab my jacket and step outside. I light up and take a puff, savoring it. Gerard follows, but he's got his jacket, too.
"I really should be getting home..." he says, trailing off.
"You want a ride?" I ask him.
"I can walk home, I live a few blocks away. But first, let me get your number." He says.
"Oh, yeah, here, just put your number in mine," I hand him my phone. He types his number in and gives it back. The case is still warm from his huge hands. He then walks off, and I feel my heart drop a little. But I'll see him again, I'm sure of that. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't.
The urge to cry enveloped me. I tried to resist, I swear I tried. I started crying as Gerard walked away.
Dry it up, crybaby, I tell myself. I still felt absolutely empty. I sulk back into my house and crash on the couch. Maybe I'll find a new job later, I guess.
...................
I wake up on the couch, my neck hurts. That made this morning way worse. I down some Tylenol and check my phone. To my surprise, there's a text.

From Gerard.
Morning, Frank. Or should I say Mr. Iero. It's ya boi , Gerard. Hopefully you remember me from last night :)
What a dorky message. I respond:
Good morning to you, too.
I get up and get my black ass coffee, and sit down. I scroll through my Facebook dash for a bit, and then I see an ad. For a guitar store downtown, and they're hiring. I mean, I love guitars, but I don't want to get up off of my ass to go and apply. I contemplate for a bit. I slip on my jacket and grab my keys. I'm doing it.
I drive through Colorado Springs traffic, and get to the store. It's called Avenue Guitars. I walk in, and my eyes are automatically drawn to the shiny Gibsons and Fenders. The walls are lined with them, but I walk towards the desk. There's a guy there, with a huge afro. I smile and he introduces himself as Ray.
"I saw your ad on Facebook, and I want to apply." I admit to Ray
"Cool, are you a guitarist?" He asks, pulling out what I'm guessing is a paper application.
"Yeah, I've been playing since I was young." I tell him. He hands me an application and asks me to bring it back completed tomorrow. Felt almost like homework.
I go home, and I find another text from Gerard.
What're you doing tonight?
I thought for a little bit.
nothing, wbu?
While I was waiting for Gerard's response, I started dozing again. I love sleeping so much. I hadn't eaten breakfast, so, I felt a bit lightheaded. I'll eat later, I tell myself.

Notes