AFTER STUMBLING INTO 7-ELEVEN AND buying everything needed to re-hydrate, I wash my face and brush my teeth, sprucing myself up in the bathroom before I continue on the one-mile trek toward sorority row.
After staggering my way up the street, I walk the block a few times before eventually locating the Kappa Phi house, their letters enormous and positioned on the front lawn in a way impossible to ignore. Impressively, I managed to a few times. Walking back and forth in front of the house, I search for Ember through the dark when I hear a pssst.
Taking a few steps back, I look up toward the house and grunt, “Huh?”
“Psssst, drunk ass, I’m up here!” a voice whisper-yells.
I look up, spotting Ember standing on a deck just outside an open window on the second floor. She’s wearing a crimson satin nightgown, and with each gust of wind, I can see her hard nipples indent the fabric. I’m afraid of how sexy I find her right now… and how much my stomach churns and eyes throb the longer I look up.
“You coming or what?” she asks, and I look around the front of the house again.
I lift my palms to the sky. “How?”
She points to the side of the house and says, “The balcony. Big wooden steps. Bright white. Kinda hard to miss.”
“Like those letters?” I chuckle, pointing toward the white and crimson letters, three feet high, perched on the front lawn.
“Huh?” she says.
“Nothing.” I wave her off and head toward the stairs.
She wasn’t kidding. They’re white as fuck.
I make my way up the stairs slowly, gripping the railing as I guide my heavy feet up one slow step at a time. At the top, I feel like how Sir Hillary must have felt all those years ago at the summit of Everest. I put my arms up in celebratory victory for a moment when there’s another psssst in the darkness.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ricky Bobby?” Ember whispers, and I open my eyes to find her standing toward the front of the balcony with hands on her hips.
“Well, hello,” I say entirely too loud. I put a hand to my lips to catch the words already spoken.
She puts a finger to her lips. “Shhhh! Oh my God, Gilbert Godfrey. Keep it down and follow the sounds that are coming out of my mouth.” She lets out a light chuckle but is quick to straighten her lips and flash that bossy expression of hers. I can’t say it’s not hot.
As I approach her, I say, “You know, you’re really on point with your references tonight.”
“Thank you,” she says, rolling her eyes and chuckling again.
I put up an okay sign as she takes me by the shoulder and leads me to the open window.
“I mean, grade A stuff,” I add.
She makes me go through the window first, but as I told her before I stuck my leg inside, I feel like I’m going to break something. When I hear a loud crash from within the darkness of her room, it’s not a matter of if I’ll break something anymore, but what I might have already broken.
Oh my God, what if I broke a family heirloom? Or china? Or, like, a nacho platter. A really nice nacho platter.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking back at her with a pained expression. “I swear I didn’t mean to break your nacho platter.”
“Holy shit, Bishop, how much of that Old Crow did you drink tonight? Get your drunk ass inside!” she orders, shoving me. I stumble in through the window fully and then dive onto her bed. There’s a loud snap, but the bed maintains its position.
But for how long …
I slow roll across and then off the bed, catching myself on the floor with my hands and knees before standing up straight. What feels like the smoothest, stealthiest combat roll I’ve ever taken must’ve been the literal opposite if I’m to believe the expression on her face.
She puts up a finger, directed first at my face, and then at the bed. “Get your butt in bed! Now. Get under the covers! And be quiet, you dork.”
I look to the bed where she’s pointing and ask, “Can I take my pants off?”
“Take off whatever you want. I’m going to brush my teeth. Just please, please keep it down. I can get in a lot of trouble for having a guy in my room.”
“Oooooh, okay, okay … quiet as a church mouse.” I put a finger to my lips as I slowly creep toward her bed.
She laughs quietly, shaking her head as she exits the room.
While she’s away, I strip my jeans and shirt off, and then I put my shirt back on before I eventually settle on removing it again. Crawling under the covers, I realize I have no idea what side I’m supposed to be on. Is she a lefty or a righty? By the door or by the wall? Should I be looking sexy-like, on an elbow or something a la George Costanza? Wait, should I even have boxers on? I’m not going to hook up with her, but to just like feel the tip of my cock against her wouldn’t be crossing the line, right?
She arrives just in time, as my mind needed a break from the drunken carnival ride. Climbing under the covers, she turns, switches off the light, and pulls the comforter to her chin. I wonder for a moment if she wants me to cuddle with her or not. She didn’t say anything to me. She just got in bed and rolled over.
Maybe that means I should leave her alone.
Then again, it could just be a test. Like, ‘Is this guy man enough to make the first move?’
But now that I think of it, am I man enough to make the first move?
What first move is there to even make? I don’t want to fuck. I just want to kiss a little bit.
I mean, I do want to fuck … just not now.
It’s just … I’m drunk.
But, oh my God, what I’d do to her tight little ass.
“Bishop!” Ember shoots up and looks back toward me with a curled lip. “Are you going to cuddle me or what?”
“Oh shit, well, yeah,” I say as she turns back over on her side. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”
As I pull her into me, her skin warm and soft against my own, she says, “What do you think it is you’re doing over here at this hour? And didn’t I mention cuddles on the note?” She aprubtly sits up again and turns toward me, her hand running from my collar bone to my nipple. “Wait, your nipples are pierced?”
I feign a shocked expression and grab at my chest. “Oh, my God, do I?”
She quirks an eyebrow for a brief moment before she laughs and smacks a hand against my chest. “Oh, shut up!”
Her eyes fall back to my nipples and her smile fades. When her eyes meet mine again, she clears her throat and says, “Well, that’s hot,” before she turns and pushes her body back into mine.
“I can’t have sex,” I say. “It’d be like rape because I’m so drunk. And I don’t want you making some list.”
She turns just her head this time, smiling as she whispers, “Goodnight, you handsome drunk.”
“Hey, Ember?” I blurt as she’s about to turn away from me.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you ever come see me the day after that last party?”
She hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath, and then she replies, “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. Thought you might’ve been drunk. Or maybe I made an ass of myself or something. I don’t know. I was pretty drunk myself. Wasted, if I’m being totally honest.”
“How could I not remember you? Holey jeans, quarter moon earrings, Chuck Taylors on your feet … and a smile that could take a man’s breath away.”
Just as cheesy as the first time you said it,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me.
“Good night, gorgeous. You are … You’re one of a kind, you know. Young. Very young. But one of a kind. I just want you to know, I appreciate you. And you … you deserve to be appreciated.”
“I appreciate you, too, Army man,” she responds, smiling, and kissing me, and then resting her head against the pillow. Nuzzling her body into me, she gives my arms—wrapped around her—a good squeeze. And with her warm body against mine, we both drift to sleep.