wanna the guys

She was used to being the only girl at the party and to being treated as one of the guys.

One random night they were drinking and talking and someone mentioned playing truth or dare. Some of them were passed thirty, but they played anyway. What can one do, it’s fun.

They laughed louder as the dares got weirder. Drink a whole can of beer as fast as you can. Burp all our names. Ring the neighbor’s bell and run away. Sing a song backwards. Take off a piece of clothing. Kiss the one to your right on the neck. Now lick their earlobe.

Chose someone to french kiss.

‘You’re only daring me to do this because I’m the only girl’, she thought. But as ~one of the guys~ it was her moral duty not to act offended by anything.

Was it too obvious to chose the guy she sometimes hooked up with? If it was the other way around, wouldn’t she want him to pick her? And would he? And did she have to?

{there’s a huge gap in the market for etiquette of 21st century hookups, will someone write that book already}

She chose one of the other guys, only because it was a game, and because she knew the other one didn’t want it to look like they were together anyway (so fuck him, right?). The one she chose was cute but she had never thought about him that way really. He was also the one she talked to more, even more than the one she hooked up with. It was not supposed to mean anything, and she knew he knew it too. That was one of the reasons why she chose him.

They were smiling innocently, apparently not sure how to do it. Safe to say neither of them expected more than the joke out of it.

But they each thought it tasted like heaven and would have kept kissing if there weren’t so many dudes in the room going OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOO.

After that the game was done, nothing could really top it. Then they both acted like nothing happened all night. It was just a joke, of course. Until they went to the kitchen to get beers alone together, by chance. He came from the bathroom, she from the living room.

The way their eyes went straight to each other’s lips was so telling it could have made a sound. They both knew. They both leaned in. They both breathed in and smiled, hearts racing. Their lips touched again, then their tongues. The sounds blurred. A hand on a waist. A hand behind a neck. Slight biting. Strong biting. Then heavy breathing, then pulling closer. Finally, pushing away. Smiles. Fridge. Beers. A shy toast. Back to the party.

She couldn’t keep from smiling to herself as she lit a cigarette. ‘Nothing like being one of the guys, ay?’