ONE
I’m such a fucking idiot.
I stare at the lovely naked behind sticking out of my gray blankets. It’s a nice butt, which is attached to a gorgeous girl. However, I really didn’t plan to take someone home last night, since I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore.
But she is very pretty.
And very nice.
As is her butt.
“But this really wasn’t supposed to happen,” I mutter as I nudge her leg which hangs over the side of the mattress with my foot, which gives me zero response.
“It wasn’t?” My longtime friend, bandmate, and recent roommate, Missy, enters my room where I’m busy standing next to my bed, still eying the girl I found after a quick bathroom break. I didn’t even know that she decided to stay after the fun we’d had.
Missy’s dark eyes are filled with disappointment as she observes the situation. She crosses her arms and raises a perfectly shaped dark brow, as if silently scolding me for the predicament I've found myself in. “So I didn’t see you flirting your ass off last night at the bar and being all seductive with her before taking her home?”
I snort. “Well no? I was just trying to be nice to her when she came up to me and started gushing about the band and shit.”
Missy sighs, leaning against my desk. “I thought you said you were done with meaningless encounters. Remember what happened last spring?”
I cringe. Of course I remember what happened last spring, that's the entire reason I’m five thousand miles away from home.
“Don’t remind me. But hey, maybe this is not a casual hookup?” A flutter of hope sparklessomewhere,maybe I can work something out with her, she seemed okay yesterday.
“Yes, this just screams potential relationship candidate.”
I can just feel the sarcasm drip off of her.
She’s right. Ididsay I was done with casual, and have good reason for it. But last night–when I went out for drinks with my band after our gig–my fellow members all quickly disappeared to their respective partners. Leaving me alone. Again. Turns out that I’m not making the best choices when I’m feeling particularly alone.
And who can blame me? I’m in a new country, have few friends here, not to mention any family–not that I had any at home, not really–and the people who do start a convo with me usually only love the band's music and want the attention of the new lead singer.
It’s just easy to get lost in. And it makes it easy to forget.
“Let me guess, you put your flirt on like you always do because you just can’t help yourself. But now you are trying to figure out if you want to take her on a date to see if there’s something there, so you didn’t completely lie to yourself last night. Or if you should get rid of her because she maybe only wanted you because of our popularity?”
“You know me so well,” I deadpan, taking up the spot beside her. “She was actually kind of nice.”
“Was she? Or was she a groupie who just wanted a night with you?”
“I hate you.” I nudge her.
“You don’t, you love me. But you know I’m right.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Missy. We’re not that big yet, we don’t have groupies.”
“Says you. You just joined us a month ago. Wearebig here on campus and with you we’re becoming even bigger. The buzz is happening already now people are coming back for classes.”
And Iknowthat. But knowing it and experiencing it is quite different.
I sigh as I take in the girl again. When she came up to me I was just happy to make some small talk, maybe hoping for a sliver of a second that she was interested inme.But I found out very quickly that she was mostly interested in the guy she saw on stage minutes before–the performer. Which is okay, I get it. It used to happen back home with my old band as well, so it’s nothing new. I just kind of hoped it would be different here. Turns out it isn’t.
So yes, she was being all pretty and flirty and I totally took her home and took her up on her offer, happy to have some fun last night. Shame on me.
It only makes me feel like shitafterwards, not during.
“So, what are you going to do?” Missy asks after a minute where we were both staring at the girl as a couple of creepers.
