This is my first story since Danie and Melissa. This features the same characters and they have overall the same personalities. i hope that this story is more enjoyable and easier to follow along, seeing as how I'm taking this story more"seriously". But really, enjoy (:
The music pounds heavily throughout the room, making itself the dominating sound of the already noisy and chaotic scene. I lean farther back into the couch, allowing myself to be suffocated by the unnecessarily loud music. The speakers are just a few feet away from me. Vibrating just enough to make my entire body shake with each drop of the beat.
With every thump, thump, thump of the speaker the table in front of me shook as well as the cup that was on it. Watching the yellowish drink dance back and forth with the music, I start to frown. I can't possibly feel anymore pathetic. Even liquid was having more fun then me.
Looking at my phone I realize it's only been an hour. It feels like forever, though. Time tends to do that when you're not really enjoying yourself.
The minutes are slowly inching by and I feel like I'm back in class, enduring another one my professor's extra long lectures. My fingers are on my lap, tracing out little shapes like a child does when they finger-paint. I do that when I'm bored, so I look less bored.
I could've had a nice night in, lying in bed, streaming Netflix from my laptop. Enjoying the dorm's utter emptiness. Sure I'd be alone, but it would be the comfortable kind of alone. Like when you're in the shower, or using the bathroom.
This that I'm feeling now, however, isn't comfortable at all. It's an awkward and lonely kind of alone that makes you feel disconnected.
So here I am, at another frat party, in another uncomfortable situation.
I just had to listen to her.
"Her" referring to my roommate, Taylor.
As you can probably tell from the fact that I've been sitting alone this entire time, I'm not exactly a "party girl".
Unless it's for academic purposes I suck at verbal communication. Talking to people is hard. I never know I should approach a person, so it's easier for me just to avoid people. That method has saved me from countless possible embarrassments
When it comes to social skills, I'm a total penguin. My dad always said it's because I never engage myself with others. Don't read this the wrong way, I'm not a misanthropist or anything, I just don't know how approach people.
I've always been kind of introverted, but I wasn't as anti-social as I am now. Things happen, though, and they change people.
Turning my attention back to the party, I start looking amongst the crowd. Just taking it all in. As I to do this, I realize once again that I don't belong here at all. I'm just tiny, closed off penguin. Penguins don't belong at college parties! I start looking down at my phone again, pretending to be doing something other than being lonely and wondering why I even came here in the first place.
That was why.
She's my roommate and one of those girls you could never say no to. She had a certain way of asking for things that blinded you into complying without a second thought. It was how she had gotten out of doing chores around our dorm several times in the past. It was also how she got me to go to these parties with her.
"Come on Melissa! You have to go! There's gonna be booze and boys!"
Her argument wasn't even valid, considering the fact that I'm gay and I've never really dabbled with alcohol.
Remembering how she dragged me to parties several times in the past, I realized that arguing with her was pointless. She was going to get me to go anyway, so why even bother? I could always go Netflixing another night.
The weight of the couch shifts and pulls my attention back to reality. I look towards my left to see who's sitting next to me. Realizing that it's Taylor makes me sit up straighter. I have to look like I'm having fun; otherwise she might bring me another drink. Or, God forbid, make me dance with her. She did that once before, little known fact: Penguins can't dance. Happy Feet was full of lies.
"You know the reason you lesbians never get laid," Taylor says, fixing her sandy brown hair into a sloppy ponytail, "Is because you're always too pussy to get up and talk to each other."
For a second I wonder if Taylor and I are in the same room. "Taylor," I begin slowly, making sure she understands, "there is no other lesbian for me to talk to." After I said that I realized she was right. Even if the room was swarming with tons of girls who like girls I'm sure I'd be too scared to walk up to any of them.
"Yeah right. College is full of hot girls waiting for their first "lesbian encounter"." She made bunny ears with her fingers as she said this, "You know, the kind they can all tell their grandkids about when they're all old 'n gray."
I shake my head, laughing; "I don't think too many grandmas would find that story appropriate, Tay." Let alone remember it. They'd have to be senile or something. Taylor starts to laugh too, then she changes the subject and starts talking about this guy she's been talking to all night. She mentions that she might be going home with him tonight, and then pauses. Like she's thinking of what to say next. Then she does something perfectly Taylor-like and haphazardly tugs a few stands of my curly red hair.
"You need to let your hair down," she says, her face completely straight. That was something Taylor did a lot, one moment she would be giggling and then the next she would be completely serious.
"Taylor my hair is down," I say, fixing the curl back behind my ear.
"No, no, no, no, no down. Like, go find somebody, grind on the floor with them, and get down!" She is looking at me seriously. As if I don't understand just how important it was for me to get down. I kind of just stared at her wide-eyed, I'd heard worse things come out her mouth but still this frightened me. My eyes looked the other way in embarrassment.
The idea of me, Melissa Thames grinding on the floor with some possible one-night stand is odd. I've never had a one-night stand, and I don't plan to.
I'd only had sex once before, in junior year of high school. It didn't end too well, the girl—Erica was it? —Used me for her own "Lesbian encounter". She didn't even want a serious relationship with me, just a hook up. The worst thing about it was that I actually thought her and me had something special. I asked her one day where our relationship was going, and she told me hooking up is not a relationship. That she was just experimenting. I felt so used…and worthless. Like I was nothing more than an "experience" to her. That's why I'd never have a one-night stand. I can't handle a repeat of the Erica incident.
I must not have noticed Taylor getting up because when I turned my eyes over to her, she was walking back towards the couch. Her hands are full with two red Solo cups. As she places one in my hand, I think of how I didn't drink the last cup she gave me. Maybe I could get out of drinking this one too.
"Drink." Her tone tells me this is not an offer it's an order.
I take a sip and grimace at the taste. Why do people drink this anyway? It tastes disgusting. I put the cup down on the table and Taylor tilts her head to the side, giving me a scolding look.
"You need to let your hair down," she starts, "This is college for Christ's sake! Please don't tell me you decided to live on campus and not live the college life!" She emphasized her point with her hands, which is so overdramatic it kind of distracts from the seriousness in her voice. Normally I would've just ignored her, but what she said. I don't know why but it picked at me a little.
So I wasn't living "the college life". To be honest I didn't even want to live on campus.
My dad was the one who insisted on paying for room and board, not me. He said he did it so I could get out there and meet people. At the time just thought it was an excuse to get me out of the house so he could start hanging out with his beer buddies again.
Thinking about my father having a good time with his friends makes me feel even more pathetic. My 53-year-old father has a better social life than I do.
I look back at Taylor who is still looking at me, waiting for me to give her an answer. She picks up her drink and tips it slightly. It takes me a moment before I realize what she's doing.
She's giving me an ultimatum.
She doesn't say it out loud, but I still get her overall message.
Either I can get down with the college scene and actually act my age for once, or I can go back to my dorm and continue to be that mousy redheaded girl.
The one that no one knows.
The one that doesn't talk to anyone because no one talks to her.
The one who hadn't been looked at sexually since that pervy older guy ate a French fry that fell down her shirt.
The one who says she's going back to the dorm to watch Netflix but really winds up masturbating to release her pent up sexual tension.
Okay, so maybe Taylor's message didn't include all of that, but I still got the overall point, right?
I remember her saying once that she's so confident and open because she's comfortable with herself sexually. Maybe I would be a lot more confident if I started having sex?
I don't know if that would necessarily work for me, but as I think about my sex life (or lack thereof) I feel a sharp pang between my thighs. I think of masturbating before I realize that it's not even satisfying anymore. It used to be fun at first, but now it was just…sad. All I get is a little perspiration and a lot of disappointment.
So unsatisfying. I think to myself. My legs began to shake some more as I felt another pang below my belt. That one was worst than the last; bad enough to make me want to lean down and clutch my thighs. Right then it became very clear that self-stimulation isn't even an option anymore.
I need that feeling again. I think to myself, I need it so bad.
Leaning forward I shift my legs, hoping Taylor wouldn't notice my change in mood. Moving didn't make me feel any more comfortable, though. It didn't take away that pang, pang, pang, from between my thighs either. The feeling just got stronger; the friction from my shifting only helped to add to its strength.
I get it now, I say in my head, I admit it. I need it. I don't really know who I'm directing that thought to. My throbbing insides perhaps? All I can think of know is how much I want it.
And it feels good to know what I want.
I feel another pang and wince noticeably. No, it's not a want at this point. It's a need. I need this.
I take a sip of my cup and swallow it down, wondering how long I must have been keeping Taylor waiting for an answer. She sees me chugging and smiles smugly. Like she knew she was going to win all along. Drinking the beer was like raising a single white flag above my head. It was a way of letting Taylor see that she had won. That I was ready to get into the "college lifestyle". That I was ready to let my hair down.
I finish the cup and look back at Taylor who puts her arm around my shoulder. She leans into me and squeals, "You are so ready!"
Ready? My eyes widen. Was I ready?
No, no…I calm down, reminding myself how much I need this.
As she uses her chin to point at the other side of the room, I can't help but wonder if she already has someone in mind for me.
Her chin leads my eyes in the direction of a curly-haired brunette leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, nursing a bottle of beer.
She's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, accessorizing with a grey beanie and a few wristbands. Nothing too dressy. It's okay though; she doesn't need to be. Her tomboyish style just makes her even more attractive. I feel something throbbing furiously. Was the feeling in my chest in my pants? I can't tell.
My gaydar goes off like a siren, but I ignore it. It's proved to be wrong before."W-What about her?" I ask, drawing my attention back to Taylor.
Taylor's face goes completely straight again before she talks again, "She's gay." She says it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Typical Taylor, just comfortable blurting out what she thinks. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, so glad I wasn't the only one who had thought so.
"Plus she's totally been giving you sexy-eyes all night…"
I look at the beanie-wearing girl again, and consider what my roommate is implying.
Her plus me equals sexytimes? My palms get a little wet as I contemplate this further. It's not the only thing that gets wet, though.
My body wants sex, but I'm still not sure if I can go through with it.
Saying that you're ready to get down is one thing, actually getting down is another. Plus, I'm not even sure if I know how to get down.
All these things began to overwhelm me. I revert back to penguin mode and play dumb. "What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean that if I get up right now, ten bucks says she'll come over and try to bring you back to her dorm. That girl's been checking you out since she got here, Mels. And by the second glance you just gave her," Taylor smirks as she says this next part, "she can you're DTF."
DTF? What the hell is D—
"Down to fuck." Taylor finished.
Down to fuck? Am I really? I'd been rocking on that couch for what seemed like forever trying to calm my hormones. Then I look at the girl and consider sleeping with her. Does that mean I want to go home with her? And what does a second glance have to do with anything?
These confusing and only slightly relevant thoughts begin flooding my mind and suddenly I'm at a loss for which is more important: The aching below my belt or my dignity?
I start to chicken out of this, convincing myself this was all just a temporary moment of insanity.
"But I don't have ten bucks," I say trying to quickly backpedal out of this. When I said that I was really just saying anything to stop Taylor from leaving me. I don't know what I would do if that pretty brunette approached me. I don't know why I gave in to Taylor, either.
"Well that's fine." Taylor says and my nerves begin to calm. Maybe she won't make me go through with it after all…
"Yeah," she grabs my wrist and pulls me off the couch, a mischievous grin on her face, "Because you're gonna approach her."
Next thing I know, she pushes me and I'm stumbling in other girl's direction. I catch my feet, hoping no one really noticed.
They didn't. Phew. I let out a breath, thanking God that I didn't fall and spill the drink on myself or do anything equally embarrassing. Noticing that I've stepped into her line of view, I wonder if she saw that little slip up. I silently pray she didn't.
From this close I can really appreciate her features. She has curly, dark brown hair that looks like it rolled it's way out of her hat and down on her shoulders. Almond shaped eyes with a chocolaty brown center. Her caramel colored skin matched the rest of her perfectly. She was kind of like a candy bar. Chocolate, caramel, almonds…
After letting my eyes rest on her for so long, I quickly realize that I'm closer up now and that she would notice if I'm staring, which she does. She gives me a reassuring smile, though. Like it was okay that I'd been looking.
Then it happens.
I don't know what it is that comes over me.
Maybe it was the slight buzz I'd gotten from the beer.
Maybe it was the sexual confidence. (You know, the one that Taylor was talking about that one time.)
Or maybe it was her smile.
I didn't know what it was but what I did know was that I didn't want this esteem-high to go away. Moving through my body was a new sense of bravado. My arms felt less numb, and my legs started moving. It was unreal. I was walking up to a girl to talk to her. For sex! Me, the little redheaded wallflower was going talk to a girl and bring her back to my dorm for a one night sta—
My chin was nailed to the floor and I'm pretty sure my knees broke my fall, "Ouch," I say, trying to get up, even though I'm paralyzed from the initial shock. I need to get up. Judging from the silence of the room (except the ever pounding speakers) and the slowing footsteps around me, everyone just watched me fall. There is no way the brunette didn't see that.
Don't know if I'm a socially awkward penguin or bad luck Melissa. It's all so confusing for me. I try to get up but I stumble again. I look up at the ceiling and it's spinning.
Yup, I'm drunk off my ass. Or on my ass?
Now I know why I was suddenly able to approach her.
So much for liquid courage.
I keep trying to stand, using some guy's arm to steady myself. I know it's not classy, but I've already embarrassed myself in front of everyone at the party, what would a little social informality do?
Gripping to that guy's sleeve, my entire body starts to fall into balance again. My feet are firmly placed on the ground and I feel like I might be able to take another step. That is until a feel something grasping my waist. It moves again and I realize it's two very small hands clutching my hips. I crane my neck to see who's keeping me on my feet and my eyes widen as they meet deep brown ones.
My entire body flushes when I feel her soft lips part against my ear. Right now, her question is the farthest thing from my mind.
"Are you okay?"
**Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ** **Ω ****Ω **
I don't remember exactly how we got there, but when I tune back into reality, I realize I'm in front of my dorm room. Thinking back I vaguely remember her asking me where my dorm was and me responding with a drunken jumble of incoherent words.
I also remember her toting my body the whole way here and thinking how strong she must be. I'm pretty sure a person's drunken weight is kind of like their dead weight when they're asleep, really heavy.
She asks for my room key and I pat my body down a few times, trying to remember where it put it. I'm so drunk I even look in places that don't have pockets.
I pat my chest and then my memory kicks back in.
"The key is in my shirt". I say.
Or at least it think I say. She's looking at me at my as if I'm speaking a different language. Oh wait, I am. Everyone isn't fluid in drunkenbabble
I try again, and once more she looks at my funny. Is she smashed too?
After my 3rd attempt at drunkenly telling her where my key was I got frustrated. Why didn't she understand me? Was I not being clear enough? Maybe I should try a different approach..
For the second time tonight, I don't know what's come over me. All of a sudden I'm reaching for her wrist and pulling it closer and closer to my body. Feeling her hand firmly grasp my breast, I suck in a tight breath. Her eyes widen and I moan slightly at the contact.
We're both in a state of shock. Me at what I had just done and her at what she thinks to be a random sexual advance.
I didn't think about how it could've been construed as something sexual. I didn't think it through at all, actually. These Ideas seem so much better in my head.
It's weird, I can almost think clearly now. Like the intensity of the previous moment sobered me up.
After a brief moment of (awkward) silence I feel I should explain myself.
"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…the um." I stop and take a quick breath. I really need to make this clear.
She's a little taller than me so I have to look up to make direct eye contact. There's a little shine in the corner of her eyes and it's gorgeous. Wait. No. Focus. Make it clear.
"The key is right h—" I'm immediately cut off as I feel the force of two very soft lips pressing against mine. I gasp into the kiss, clearly not expecting it. Unskilled in the art of tongue swapping, I just let her take lead. My body falls into hers as her lips give me stomach flutters and twitching thighs. It's forceful and gentle and passionate all at the same time, a perfect balance.
Her lips pulled back slightly and kissed me again, our one kiss turning into many. I could feel her tongue probing my mouth and hear our breaths get shallower and shallower. She doesn't pull away and neither do I. Neither of us removes ourselves from the clinch, like we might fall apart if we disconnect.
Eventually our mouths come apart, each of us breathing heavily as we each try to catch our breaths. I open my eyes and look at her for the first time after our make out session.
She's smiling at me. It's a small and subtle smile, just the corners of her lips turned up slightly. As she smiles I see her eyes have the same shine I'd noticed before, only glossier. She's smiling with her eyes and I can tell that she's genuinely pleased with the sudden change in the night's course.
I hadn't noticed it before, but her hand is right on my stomach. A smile grows on my face as I take her wrist once more and guide her hand up my body. Starting at my abdomen, her smile grows wider as I lift our hands higher. Before stopping at the middle of my chest.
Then her eyes light up in realization as she feels her skin come into contact with a cold, metal object.
In between ragged breaths I finally manage to say it clearly.
"The key. Is right. Here."
(Feedback/Comments are always appreciated)