come from?” I grasped at the can, letting my fingers fall over hers.
“In here. There’s a band that kinda sucks, but no one’s watching the kitchen.” I followed them inside and took in the three guitarists on the makeshift stage, one bassist and two dudes both convinced they were the lead. One wasn’t bad, but they kept vying for solos. Embarrassing.
Dallas leaned against the counter with her back arched and asked me when I’d moved in and how I liked it and where I was from until her friend felt sufficiently left out of the conversation and made some pissy announcement that she was going home.
I was buzzed. Dallas had helped herself to another beer but seemed fine. I asked if she wanted to dance—there was another party down the hall with ridiculous house music. She grabbed my hand as I led her down a floor. I pulled my hand out and put it on her back, then just as we got to the door I slid it down for a quick squeeze of her ass. She looked surprised, then grinned.
I tried to convince the door guy that we’d already been inside, but he wouldn’t hear it and I hadn’t brought any money, so Dallas paid ten bucks for us to enter, which I felt pretty bad about. But she said she didn’t care and yanked me out to the dance floor and pretty soon pulled my face in to make out. I was having a great drunken time until I opened my eyes and saw the Molly girl from earlier giving me the stink eye from like ten feet away, so I put my mouth up to Dallas’s ear and asked if she wanted to get out of there.
“WHAT?” she shouted back.
I tried again, louder this time. She pulled my face in with her hand, closed my ear with her thumb, and purred into it, “Try it this way.” I heard perfectly through the vibrations and also instantly got hard. I slid my palm around her jaw, pressed my thumb against the little piece of cartilage over her ear, and asked one more time. Hot.
We were both sort of sloppy by the time we staggered into my place. We kissed inside the doorframe and she enthusiastically pushed her tits into my hands. When she looked around and I blinked a few times to figure out which identical bedroom door was mine, I could tell she was a little grossed out. Animal looked at her and actually let out a long yowl. I pulled her toward my room and kinda yanked us both inside, closing the door behind me.
Standing there, she pulled off my shirt, belt, and jeans, like, really fucking fast. In the same few minutes I only got as far as unbuttoning her top. I started climbing the stairs to my loft bed, thinking she would follow, when she froze and said, “I actually have a full-size bed, cool if we go there?” Which sounded kind of awesome, a bigger bed where we wouldn’t bonk our heads on the ceiling or die of heat as the night wore on. I kind of hated my room anyway. So I said sure and started to look around for my keys.
Which were, of course, nowhere to be found. I hadn’t grabbed them before because I was just wandering around the building, and anyway, when did my three roommates lock the door? Did anyone in this fucked-up building? Keys were for outside, I told myself drunkenly. And her door was only a few down from mine and everybody else was in bed. So fuck keys. And fuck clothes. If I waited too long, she might think better of the offer. I grabbed her waist and told her we should run, run, to her room.
We made it there without seeing anyone else and were both laughing, doubling over, by the time we got inside her apartment and closed the door behind us. She led me to her bedroom—floor level, big bed, natural light—and I congratulated myself for the good move of getting away from my own miserable space.
The next morning, half asleep, she wanted to cuddle and cuddle and cuddle, and thinking vaguely about morning sex, I made no move to leave. “I have to gooo,” I told her at ten thirty, but of course I was too comfortable-yet-hungover to fight it.
Ten forty-five. Eleven. At eleven twenty-five I finally stood up and asked to borrow some pants.