november 21st, 2009. 6:34 p.m.

“i swear i’m not drunk,” joaquín protests into your shoulder, the smell of his breath proving very much otherwise. “it’s not even a school night. no soy tan irresponsable...”

joaquín does this way too often. he goes out with his friends and drinks himself into a stupor, proceeds to cry to his ex-girlfriend over the phone about how much he hates his life and how much he misses her, and finally asks you for a ride back home. sometimes he pulls the “but i’m your best friend ever in the whole world” card just so he can stay the night at your place after (a), he gets kicked out, or (b), his parents yell at him to get his grades up again. he’s a smart kid. just lazy.

“please can you just let me go home with you?” clinging to your shirt in front of his buddy juan’s house, joaquín gives you his very best puppy dog eyes. “pleeease… you know my parents have been on my ass about my grades lately… please…”