A while back Secretmonkey had a series called Scenes that was all moments from the 2B trailer. I loved the idea so much that I'm totally stealing it. This is based on a scene from the trailer, the one of Amy kissing the girl at the Halloween party.

It's Halloween (or technically two nights before) and you're kissing Catwoman.

Her name is Harper and she's not the first girl you've kissed since Reagan (that would, technically, be Karma, but since she kissed you and then didn't - couldn't - tell you it meant anything, you're so not counting that) and there have been others since then, but unlike those kisses (Portland and Becky and Suzanne and that girl in the club in Tulsa whose name you can't remember but whose lips you'll never forget) you're managing, fairly easily, to not wonder if Harper will be the last girl you kiss.

You always thought Karma was the hopeless romantic (and if she ever finds out you've been thinking this way about every kiss, she's never going to let you live it down) (of course, she'd have to be speaking to you for that to happen) but it's taken you a lot longer that you would have thought to adjust to the idea that every kiss doesn't have to be the kiss and every girl doesn't have to be the girl and every guy…

Well…

You tried that. Once. In Lubbock, in a bar with bad lighting and worse beer and the girls in the band side eyeing you from the stage as you danced a little too close with him (and by a little, you mean a lot, and by a lot you mean there was some… serious… grinding and by serious you mean you could totally feel… him… through the denim of his jeans.) You did your best to pretend that you didn't notice his… enjoyment… and tried so very hard (for reasons even you don't really understand) to find him even half as attractive as the girl he'd come there with.

You tried. But then he tried to pin you against a wall outside the restroom and she gave him a swift kick and went back to the motel with you and he went home alone (and nursing a very… bruised… enjoyment) and… let's just say you didn't have to pretend very much the rest of that night.

But back to Harper, who still isn't the first girl and probably isn't the last (and you're not too disappointed about that cause, really, the Catwoman costume is hot, but it's hot and cliche and you like to think your standards a bit higher, at least when it comes to something more than kissing.)

(Though... it is hot and the kisses are good so maybe just a little more isn't totally out of the question especially since it is your house and your room is right upstairs...)

It's still sorta weird for you, to find yourself even considering that. You'd never thought of yourself as a hook-up kinda girl and you still think Shane's 'get over by getting under' is about the worst advice in the history of advice. It is, you think, a sure fire way to a broken heart, to a messy morning after, to night after night filled with orgasms laced with self hatred and denial.

But…

They're still orgasms.

And, bad advice or not, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't tried it out maybe just a little and you'd be lying even more if said it didn't… help… a bit. A tiny bit. A teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, barely even noticeable…

Oh, who the fuck are you kidding? The only time you didn't think about Karma for the first month you were gone was when there were new lips on yours (and even then…) or new hands running along your body (and still then…) or a new head between your thighs (and...well… OK… not then.)

Getting laid didn't get you over Karma but it did get you (and her) out of your head and that, you know, had to help.

And the orgasms certainly didn't suck and once you got through that first month, once you got used to the road and the bus and the girls in the band (and no, you didn't do any of that with any of them because you still remembered Shane's other advice about not shitting where you eat even if you think he could have come up with a much less ewww way to put it) and, mostly, got used to not having Karma there, right there, all the time, it got easier and you didn't find yourself craving a kiss or a touch or a something… more… quite so often.

That doesn't mean you didn't indulge, but you like to think you were a little more… discerning… those last two months. Which, obviously, brings you back to Harper because while she may not be the last girl (and, truthfully, you don't even know if she has last girl potential cause most of the hour and half you've known her, her lips have been too…. busy… to talk) she is the first girl since you've been back (and no, you're not counting the good-bye kiss Jessa gave you at the bus stop) and you know that you really should talk to her a little. Chat her up. Find out if she's even your type.

Like you know what that is.

Reagan was your type (but then, Reagan was everyone's type). Portland and Becky and Suzanne and Tulsa and Lubbock (her, not him) were all your type, at least for an hour or a night or something in between and they had little or nothing in common. They were short (Becky) and tall (Portland) (Seriously) (fucking Amazon). They were brunette (Tulsa) and blonde (Suzanne) and some green-slash-blue-slash-gray color not found in nature (Lubbock).

They weren't red. Not a fucking one.

They were into music (Jessa and yes, for this you'll count that kiss) and books (Portland) (Gulliver's Travels was a fave) and movies (oh… that was you). Some of them you wanted to talk to for hours and some only lasted five minutes before you helped them find much better uses for their mouths.

You're not sure about Harper yet (again, mouth sorta busy) and you know you should take a break, disengage, see if she even recognizes your costume (Amelia Earhart and not, as Shane thought, the dead wife from the beginning of Up), see if she's got the brains to keep up with the lips, if she's got enough going on above the waist to not make her a waste.

You should. You really should.

But she's pressing you back, up against the wall and while doing this in front of this many people (like a fucking one of them is looking at you two right now) isn't normally your thing, it's been almost two months and Karma's still not speaking to you and you're spending most of your time with Lauren (which isn't as bad as you once thought, but it's still Lauren) and Karma's still not speaking to you and you had to find out she was still homeless from Shane and did you mention Karma's still not speaking to you and you think that maybe (so not maybe) you're self imposed dry spell, the one you started so as to not appear to have moved on completely might be just about at end.

And then you (for no good reason) (except you feel it before you see it) (which is still not a good reason) pop one eye open as both Harper's hands settle into back pockets of your very tight Amelia Earhart flight pants and you discover you were wrong.

One of them is looking at you two.

And you get the feeling this isn't going to get her to speak to you any time soon which might explain (not might) why five minutes later Harper's hands aren't in your pockets anymore cause your pockets are on your pants and those are on the floor next to your bed and this is, you're quite sure, nothing but one more step toward another broken heart, a messy morning after, and an ever widening divide between you and the only person you really wish was in your bed right now.

So, yeah, Harper's definitely not the last girl. But the last girl… well… she's not even the speaking to you girl right now. And maybe you don't have to try as hard as you did that first month and maybe this isn't the bus and this isn't the road and nothing you do is going to keep Karma out of your head.

But it can't hurt to let Harper try.

It's still an orgasm after all. And that's never bad, right?

Right?