Rosie stumbles when she stands. I’m tucking myself back into my underwear and catching my breath while holding her steady.
Her hair is a mess. Gold headband moved completely out of place and bun loose in all the wrong places.
I swoop down to catch her in a kiss before she can glance at the mirror and notice.
“Good?” I ask between lips pressed together and playful swipes of tongues.
“So fucking good. I’ve always wanted to do something in a public bathroom.”
It hits me all at once. Where we are. What led to this. What we were doing.
We’re at this club with our friends, for fucks sake.
“Oh my gosh. They’re going to kill us if they find out.”
I’m being deadly serious when I say it. I’m barely holding onto the high of standing up to someone. Facing my friends with a very clear“I just came in the club bathroom”face is far from things I’m prepared to do.
Rosie’s arms wrap around my waist, under my dress shirt. She presses her chest to my torso and I can feel her laughing.
I think the situation is a bit devoid of humor, but her giggles calm everything.
“We’re adults. I’m sure they’ll understand if we want to fuck around in a bathroom on Halloween night. Even if they don’t want to see it, they’ll have to accept it.”
“They have to?”
“Well, yes.” Her hand reaches into my left slack pocket, where I tucked away the small items she didn’t want to hold onto, and she pulls out her maroon lipstick. A fresh coat is applied, and a kiss mark gets pressed into my chest, before Rosie says, “You ripped your buttons off. You’re walking out of here like this regardless.”
I must turn as red as her kisses.
The mess we’ve made is unmissable. White buttons are scattered across the floor, my once-pristine green jacket is now wrinkled, and there’s a dark, wet spot stained exactly where Rosalie would’ve been dripping.
I have to look away to keep my head on right.
“I guess they do have to accept it.”
She doesn’t respond with words. Only actions. Marking me with more kisses up and down my torso, and a smile of hers that’s too mischievous for her own good.
“There. Perfect.”
Heated embarrassment still covers my skin. I still feel nervous when we pick the pieces of my outfit off the floor and decide to toss them in the trash. The shyness doesn’t disappear when we adjust ourselves, walk past the line of patrons waitingfor the other bathroom, and Rosie asks to dance before finding our friends.
I can never say no to her.
On the dance floor, I awkwardly bop back and forth to a beat I don’t know. I wonder if I’m too clumsy to be with the most captivating woman in the building, but then she smiles at me. With the flashing lights covering her features, she makes my insecurities disappear, and my worries feel small.
I’m exposed, but protected. Shy, but brave. Quiet, but heard.
I don’t know how long we spend dancing together and ignoring everyone else in the room, but Liliana eventually finds us. She yells over the music that Grant caught Derek making out with a random girl, and now he feels awkward, so we’re hopping to another club. I try to cover my chest with what’s left of my dress shirt when the group reunites, but Rosalie smirks and pulls the fabric open again.
The rest of the night is a cycle. Find a club, realize I’m lucky enough to be with a girl as enchanting as Rosie Mendoza, spend time with friends I’ll be grateful to for a lifetime, then repeat.
We get home eventually. Wash up together, and have a round of slow, lazy sex, before laying in bed holding each other.
It’s late into Saturday pancakes-for-dinner when I realize I spent the better part of the night without thinking of my father.
twenty-five
ROSIE
