One fateful night in October, I got my wish. Oh, I got to see her, alright.
I was at a frat party. I wasn’t a frat member, but being an athlete gets you invited to a lot of parties. It was a real raucous one, just the kind I liked for finding a good-enough chick to go home with. In fact, a look around the room showed a number of previous hookups that I needed to avoid.
I was, shall we say, extremely sexually active. But I rarely repeated a hookup. I never really dated anyone. I definitely never loved anyone. That title was reserved for one person.
My attention was drawn to the bar, where some of the elder frat bros were helping some girls stand up on the bar. All of them were clad only in underwear and white t-shirts. Some frat boys stood by with water guns. I could see where the night was going.
“Pathetic freshmen,” Sonya, the girl who was hanging on me that night, said. “I can’t believe they fall for it every year.”
“Let’s see who the winner will be, shall we?” some douche named Ross called out. “Ladies, are you ready?”
One girl, in particular, threw her hands up, drawing the t-shirtup to reveal a very tiny thong. Like, so tiny I could see the sides of her pussy lips. I wished that little scrap of fabric weren’t there at all. Her legs were toned, meeting perfectly just after her knees. I could see the hint of her ass when she stepped her legs apart. She was hot as hell. My eyes drew upward and met a tiny bird necklace. And that’s when I realized who it was.
I locked eyes with hers, and she smirked. “STOP!”
I charged toward the bar and the crowd parted for me as I pushed through.
“What the fuck, Guy?” Sonya yelled after me. I barely heard her and I didn’t give a shit.
“Hi, Guy,” the girl on the bar crooned. Her eyes were slightly glazed over.
“Kitty Bird, get down from there. Where are your pants?”
“Not sure,” she said with a sly shrug. It set her off balance, and she almost fell off the bar. She had to be wasted, or close to it. I held her calves to stabilize her.
“I’m giving you one more chance to get down.” My tone wasn’t that far off from her dad when she was in trouble.
“Make me. Stop embarrassing yourself, Guy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, then.” I took off my jacket. I wrapped my arm behind her knees, forcing her to bend and fall over my shoulder. I put the jacket over her bare ass that hung next to my face as she squealed and thrashed. “You sure you don’t know where your pants are?”
“Let go of me, Guy Stelle! I can make my own decisions!” she screamed at me from behind my back.
“Not today, you can’t. Where are your pants?”
She lifted herself bolt up to my shoulder, sliding down the front of my body. I ignored the fact that her bare ass passed through my hands. “What the fuck are you doing, Guy?”
“I’m keeping you from getting into trouble, that’s what.”
“Oh, and you’re just rescuing me? What about all the other damsels in distress up there?” Kitty raged, flinging a hand towardthe bar.
“They’renot my best friend,” I huffed.
“Best friend? Really, Guy? You stopped talking to me!”
“You’ve been mad at me! You haven’t wanted to talk to me!” I objected.
“Before that, Frenchie!”
People were staring. One girl had her phone out, taking a video of the scene. I had to get us out of there if we were going to fight.
“We’re leaving,” I said. “We need to talk.”
“Fucking clearly,” she said, stomping off to a bedroom upstairs and hurling my jacket at me.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“To get my pants you want me to wear so fucking badly,” she yelled. I watched her ass jiggle with every indignant stomp she made. I had to tell my body to behave. I didn’t want to be attracted to drunk Kitty. Sober Kitty? All bets were off. But if I put moves on Kitty that night, I’d have been no better than the sleazebags downstairs running the wet t-shirt contest.
