Chapter 1 – It Wasn't a Mistake

They weren't supposed to meet again after that storage room incident. They weren't supposed to bump into each other at that underground rave. They don't know how it happened, and who knows how, but it did.

It could have been the alcohol, but neither drank enough to be that drunk. Hell, neither drank, period. One moment they were grinding on the dance floor, the other they were making out in Reagan's truck. And now here they were, lying naked on Reagan's bed.

"You're quite experienced for a seventeen years old girl."

It baffled Reagan how the younger girl never dated anyone before. She did mention a first time, but didn't delve into it too much. At a few points, as much as she didn't actually want to, she had to stop her and all the intense kissing to make sure this was something she wanted, and not something she needed or would regret later.

It ended with Amy telling her to shut up. And her tongue did a pretty good job at that.

"You could say I'm a fast learner?" they both gave a small laugh before she continued, "We should do this again. It was fun."

Reagan froze. She's joking. Maybe she did drink a bit after all. And maybe this shouldn't have happened at all.

But when she got out the bed without stumbling, put her clothes on without struggling and gave that seductive wink before crossing the door?

Reagan could confirm Amy was perfectly (or partly) sober.

"Don't you need a ride home?" she shouted from her room.

"No thanks, I'll be fine."

Reagan woke up with a vague recollection of last night.

Who was she kidding?

She woke up with a smile, and a very clear recollection of her night spent with the blonde girl.

Amy. Shrimp Girl. Cutie with a nice butt. Whichever image appeared first. The more she thought about her, the more her smile grew a bit bigger.

It wasn't much the sex that stuck to her mind. Sure, it was great, she admits that. Reagan can't remember the last time she enjoyed getting laid with a stranger. She does however remember the ones she regrets even until today. But let's not get into that.

What stuck to her were all the things that came before. Amy's infectious laugh when she almost tripped on their way to the parking lot, her change in expression as she sang out loud the wrong lyrics to the radio song, her blushing face when she removed Reagan's bra. Those were the small things that made Reagan's heart flutter just a little. Just a tiny little.

But when she recalled that Amy hadn't left her number or any other contact information, despite suggesting they should do this again – Amy's words, not hers – she shook her head in order to brush off those thoughts away. This was just a one time thing. Like it always were.

It's not like she was hoping they would meet again, whether it be at another party, or coincidentally on the street. It's not like she was imagining scenarios in which she would see Amy, her figure build and toned, working out at the same gym she was heading to, and that, at the same hour.

No, Reagan was a realist. (Or she liked to think she was.)

So forget about Amy. Forget about Shrimp Girl. Forget about those mesmerizing green eyes. She was going to move on with her life.

Except when she heard that beeping sound? She knew it wouldn't be so easy.

Reagan turned her attention to the noise and there it was, vibrating nonchalantly on the passenger seat, Amy's phone. It dropped from her shorts when she got out of the car, too impatient to enter the older girl's apartment.

Before Reagan could pick it up, hesitating a second too long, it went silent.

"What now?" she whispered to no one.

Reagan wasn't going to lie. She was useless at those things. And when she says "those things", she means anything more serious than a one night stand.

Kiss girls until their lips are swollen? Yeah, she could do that.

Tease them until they beg? Easy.

Call them and hold a conversation, say flirt, for more than five minutes? She would rather not. It makes her sweat, and not in a good way.

The truth is Reagan enjoyed the single life. She didn't want anything serious. (She preferred those terms over "afraid of commitment because of a brutal break-up" a lot better.)

But Amy probably wasn't looking for anything serious either. It's not like she was going to ask her on a date, right? Right.

Amy probably only wanted her phone back. That was it. Nothing to be nervous about.

Yet she still managed to jump a little when the unfamiliar ring tone went on again.

Keep your cool, Reagan. It's going to be fine.

She cleared her throat before answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank God."

Reagan could feel her back muscles relax against the car seat when she recognized the voice. She sighed, "Shrimp Girl?"

"Hey DJ."

She couldn't see the girl from the other line, but for some reasons, she could feel Amy smiling as well.

"You smell like sweat."

"Thanks for reminding me I just came back from working out?"

Reagan chuckled and sat on the bed with Amy. She looked around the room and applauded the girl for her taste in music. A few of her many favorite artists' posters were hanging on the wall and that made her like Amy just a little more (just a tiny little more).

She focused her eyes on the things closer to her and picked up the framed picture on the nightstand, "Who's that?"

Hearing no response and noticing Amy's uneasy look, she knew she must have hit a weak spot. She put it back where it was previously standing.

"Sorry."

"It's fine...it's just, complicated."

She nodded in response and shifted her body.

"Then how about we keep it simple?"

There were times Reagan wished she had rolled her tongue seven times before speaking her mind. Now were one of those times.

It took five seconds of eyes contact before Amy leaned in and pulled Reagan into a kiss.

It took three more, and two on the neck, and another on her jaw line for the older girl to be on top and for clothes to be thrown on the floor.

Reagan was wrong.

This wasn't going to be just a one time thing.

Not like she minded. That is, for now.