Chapter 7: Do Over

I lean closer to the full-length mirror until my nose is nearly touching the reflective pane.

"I don't think I've ever seen you care so much about your appearance," Willow's voice observes from behind me. "Even when you were with Angel." She's sitting on the end of my bed, lightly tossing Mr. Gordo 2.0 up and down. "This is really important to you, huh?"

"Of course it is," I say distractedly as I apply some blush to my cheekbones. I smile exaggeratedly and sweep the brush along the contours. "It's Faith."

"My point exactly," Willow remarks. "It's Faith."

Her words bring a frown to my face. "Do you still really not like her?" I question. "After all this time?"

Willow's eyes fall to her lap and she picks at my comforter. "No, I like her just fine."

"Then why the long face?" I ask, snapping shut my blush compact. I pull out my eye-shadow case from my makeup bag.

Willow makes a grumbling noise from behind me. "I don't think she likes me."

I spin away from the mirror to face my best friend. "That's ridiculous, Will!" I exclaim. "Of course she likes you."

My friend shrugs and tosses Mr. Gordo back near my headboard. "I haven't really given her a reason to like me," she notes wistfully. "I was pretty horrible to her in high school."

I quirk an eyebrow. "So was I, Will. And she seems to like me just fine now."

Willow snickers. "Yeah, but that's because she's always been in love with you."

Willow's words cause me to bristle, and I momentarily fumble with my eye-shadow brush. Faith and I never really got to that point in our relationship where we exchanged the L-word.

"Uhm…right." I clear my throat uncomfortably and turn back to the mirror. I fish my mascara out of the makeup bag and start to carefully apply it to my upper lashes. "We, uh, we really haven't had any time to unwind since moving here," I point out. "First with getting settled in a new city, then finding all the newly called slayers and placing them in slayer cells, and now with the Magic Shop re-opening. It's been busy, Will. Give it some time, and I'm sure you guys will be best friends in no time."

"I'd just settle for being friends," Willow remarks, "especially if you two are really serious."

"We should all hang out," I suggest, snapping the mascara wand back into its tube. "You, me, Faith, and Kennedy," I say, even though the thought of hanging out with Willow's girlfriend on purpose pains me.

"Like a double date?" A smile breaks over Willow's face. "That would be awesome!"

"Just not to Crossroads," I insist. "After tonight, I'm pretty sure I'm done with that place."

"Why are you two going back there?" Willow questions.

I sigh deeply and put the mascara tube back into my makeup bag. "It's the do-over Faith wanted," I reveal. "I royally messed up the first time we tried to have a date there, so I guess I have to prove to her that I can handle myself in a room full of alcohol and lesbians."

"Sounds like your most difficult challenge yet, Slayer," Willow lightly teases. "Are you up for it?"

I shake my head at my friend's reflection and resume putting on the finishing touches to my eye makeup. "You're really a jerk sometimes," I mumble.

The hallway leading to Faith's apartment smells like Indian food. The lighting isn't the best either, kind of an unattractive halogen glow, but it's not like there's anything I really want to see better in the hallway. Faith and I earn the same amount of money from the new Council as a stipend, so the fact that she insists on living in such a dump on the east side is a mystery to me. I've never brought it up though, not wanting to insult or embarrass her. I mean, who am I to judge how people choose to live?

I actually haven't been to her apartment too many times. For as long as we'd been together, I always preferred my own apartment and wanted to sleep in my own bed instead of coming back here. Faith never complained about it, but the thought now makes me realize just what a horribly selfish girlfriend I've been. I straighten my shoulders as I stand outside of Faith's rented one-bedroom, resolved. I'm going to fix it this time.

I knock and wait a few moments before the door is abruptly thrown open. The scowl on Faith's face is quickly replaced with a look of surprise.

"You're early," she says in an emotionless voice that would normally make me angry.

I'm not letting her sour mood ruin our night before it even begins, however. "I couldn't wait to see you," I tell her truthfully. I'm really not that early; maybe just half an hour. But I suppose with my typical lack of punctuality, me even showing up on time should be a surprise.

I pull the small bouquet of wild flowers from behind my back and grin.

Her dark eyes visibly widen. "What. Are. Those?"

I push past her, out of the hallway, and into her apartment. "They're flowers," I chirp.

She rolls her eyes and closes the front door. "Well, duh," she says. "But why?"

I rummage around the galley kitchen, looking for a vase. When I come up empty handed, I'm not surprised. As minimalist as Faith is, there's no reason for her to have a one. Instead, I pull an empty beer bottle from her recycling bin and fill it with water from the tap.

"Do I need an excuse to bring you flowers?" I ask innocent as I trim the flower stems and then carefully arrange the small bouquet in the long-necked bottle.

Faith stands next to me, inspecting my work. "I'm not exactly a flower kind of girl," she grunts uncomfortable. The floor squeaks as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Then what kind of girl are you?" I ask.

She shrugs, nonplussed.

I'm not about to deal with her all night if I can't shake her from this mood. I grab onto her wrist as she starts to turn away. "Hey, are you okay?" I gently ask.

She nods curtly. "Five by five."

Her response makes me freeze. I haven't heard that from herin a very long time.

She seems to sense my unease with her word choice, so she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me close. She looks nervous, and it makes me feel a little better to see her confidence slightly shaken. At least we're in this thing together.

"I'm fine," she insists. "I just…really want this night to go well, you know? I kinda feel like this is the Universe giving us one final chance."

I nod and lean in until our foreheads are just barely touching. I can't deny how amazing it feels to be this close to her. It's like my nerve endings are hyper aware of everything surrounding us, and yet, at the same time, I'm completely consumed by her.

"You sure you want to go out tonight?" I ask. I reach up and gently brush a strand of hair out of her face. "We could always stay in." My thumb strokes along her right cheekbone.

She swallows hard, her nostrils flare, and the vivid image of her taking me, hard, against the kitchen counter suddenly flutters through my mind. I shudder and close my eyes at the intensity. I wonder if it'll always be like this between us.

Her voice pulls at me. "We should get going before you make me change my mind," she rasps.

I can't help my smirk. I could make this difficult for her, harder for her to leave this place instead of us tumbling straight into her bed, but I won't. So instead of lingering any longer, I take her hand and pull her toward the front door.

"Eager much?" she teases.

"C'mon, Lehane," I chuckle. "Let's get this do-over over with."

I stare up at the non-descript neon sign that announces the name of the club. Crossroads. Faith's hand is light on my waist, anchoring me when I'm more than ready to take flight. "You ready for this, Slayer?"

I turn and give her a weak smile. "Let's do it."

When we walk inside the bar, and I pause long enough to slip out of my jacket, my ears are filled with a resounding cheer. To my chagrin, the bar patrons are cheering my name.

I feel my face flush red. Faith slips her hand into mine and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze. Her words, however, are anything but reassuring. She leans close, her lips brushing against my ear. "Looks like you've got a fan club," she says suspiciously.

I look into those unreadable, dark eyes. "We don't have to stay," I insist.

A strange smile creeps onto her lips. "Nuh uh, Princess. You said I'd get my do-over and that's exactly what I'm getting tonight."

"But we could go someplace else for your do-over," I point out. I mentally cringe at the whine in my tone.

"Nope," she clips. "It has to be here." Her grip tightens on my hand, and she gently leads me away from the door in the direction of the bar. "Don't worry, B," she cajoles with a playful wink. "I'll protect you from the lesbians tonight."

When we stop in front of the bar, I recognize Leah, the bartender who was working the first night I came out with Willow and Kennedy. I'm surprised when she seems to recognize me as well.

"Well, well," she greets with a laugh on her lips. "Hi, Buffy. I hear I missed out on a wild time the other night."

I'm sure I blanch. In fact, I feel like I might fall dead in my spot. "What exactly happened that night?" I hiss at her under my breath.

Her eyes go comically wide. "You don't remember?"

I shrug sheepishly. "I've got a small frame, and I had too many shots," I say in justification.

"Well…it's all just hearsay at this point," she initially hesitates.

"Please, Leah," I plead.

She sighs, but her remorse is replaced with a smirk. "Apparently there was dancing on the bar involved, some impromptu karaoke, and then you snuck behind the bar and guzzled straight out of the beer taps like you were Pauly Shore in Encino Man."

My eyes go wide, and she reaches across the bar top to pat my hand in consolation."Don't worry," she says with a playful wink. "I hear it was all very PG-13…Besides the part where you convinced everyone in the bar to participate in a wet t-shirt contest."

I press my fingers against my temples and close my eyes. A few shots and I apparently turn into the frickin' bartender from Coyote Ugly. I turn to Faith. "Is it really that important that we stay here tonight?" I pout.

Faith grins broadly. "I was just playing before, B, but now that I know I'm hanging out with the legendary Buffy Summers, I think we gotta stick around long enough to see the show."

Leah reaches under the counter and pulls out a bottled beer. She snaps the top off with a ring that doubles as a bottle opener and slides the beer in my direction. "Planning on a repeat performance tonight?"

I accept the proffered drink and greedily bring it to my lips. But, remembering that alcohol is the reason I'm in this mess, I hastily stop and yank it away from my mouth before any amber liquid can meet my lips. Instead, I set the bottle back on the bar top. "A world of no," I insist, making a horrified face. "And while we're at it, can I get a water with lemon instead? I'm never drinking alcohol again."

"Awww," Leah exaggeratedly pouts. "I always miss out on the really fun nights. Guess that's what I get for taking a weekend night off."

Leah reaches for my beer, but Faith's hand is quicker. She snatches it off the bar top and flashes a winning smile at the bartender. "Just cause B's off the juice doesn't mean I am."

Our bartender looks a little flustered. I don't blame her. Faith's dimples tend to do that. "Uh, s-sure," she nods. She gives us both a fluttering grin and walks down to the other end of the bar to serve some other waiting patrons.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder and I turn to find myself practically on top of Megan. I jump backwards just a little bit, startled by her proximity and the fact that it's Megan.

I'm not ready for this. I am so not ready for this right now.

"Hey, Buffy," she grins warmly. "I didn't know if you'd be back."

Faith slowly turns beside me, and I feel her arm slide around my waist and tighten.

"Oh, is this your friend?" Megan exclaims, noticing the woman standing next to me. "The one you were telling me about?"

I nod, but add nothing more that might encourage her to stick around. My mouth feels dry and I cast a glance in the direction of the bar, desperate for Leah to come back with my water.

Megan not-so-subtly rakes her eyes over Faith's body. It doesn't make me jealous because I'm used to people doing that, but I'm still not happy about it. "Well," she purrs, not taking her eyes off Faith, "now I know why you were so worried she'd disappeared," she says, giving me a wink.

I give her a pained smile, but still say nothing, hoping she'll just please go away. Megan's not an obtuse girl, however. She seems to recognize my uneasiness and offers me a less predatorial smile. "Well, I guess I'll see you around," she chuckles before turning on her heels and walking away.

"Who was that?" Faith immediately asks as Megan walks away without looking back. If I'm not mistaken, I can detect just the slightest bit of heated jealousy in her question.

I shy my head away from Faith's inquisitive gaze. "Just a girl."

"Uh huh." She's not convinced.

I suck in a sharp breath. "Ok, fine. She's the girl…that I…" I trail off, not wanting or willing to finish that sentence.

At first Faith's face reveals her confusion when I don't finish my sentence. But after a quick moment, her features darken in realization. I grab her by the bend of her elbows when her body jerks like she's about to take flight, catching her before she can storm off and do something we'll both regret.

"Let me go," she hisses. She tugs with annoyance at my hold.

My grip is unforgiving; I'm not letting her go – in more ways than one.

"You're mad at me, Fai. Not her," I gently remind her. This displaced anger is starting to become a habit. Another bad habit that I'm responsible for, unfortunately. My breath is soft against her ear, and I take the opportunity to place a single kiss near her earlobe. I can feel her tense figure relax just enough that I'm confident in releasing my hold.

Even though I'm convinced she's no longer going to stride across the room and promptly punch a hole through Megan's face, I'm unnerved by the way Faith continues to stare at her from across the slightly crowded bar.

"Is that your type?" she asks after a moment of unbroken glaring. Her voice sounds far away even though she's standing right next to me.

I take a moment to appraise the tattooed, goth-inspired girl now located across the room. Megan talks with a group of girls, oblivious or uncaring that Faith is shooting fire-y daggers at her with her eyes.

"My type?" My hand finds its way into Faith's. Her hand is warm and dry. "Honestly?"

Faith finally turns to look at me. I can see the apprehension in her face. "Am I gonna like the truth?"

I duck my head a little shyly. "Actually, I first noticed her because she kind of reminded me of you," I reveal. I look up and give her a lop-sided grin.

Faith flicks her eyes away from my face and back to where Megan stands. "No way do I look like that piece of –."

A well-placed finger interrupts her tirade. She crosses her eyes slightly and stares at my finger pressed against her full lips. "Don't," I gently chastise. "She's not important. None of that is. You're my type," I say. "Just you."

Her eyes uncross as she stops fixating on my finger. Her lips curve up, and I let my hand fall back to my side. "You gonna dance with me anytime soon?" she challenges, Megan' apparently forgotten. "I'm getting a little antsy."

"I gotta go to the bathroom first," I nod, "and then we can finally have that dance."

Faith slams the rest of her beer with alarming speed and ease. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and sets the empty bottle on the bar. "I'll come with."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Don't trust me enough to go to the bathroom by myself?"

Her hand finds mine once again. There seems to be a lot of hand holding going on tonight, but I'm certainly not complaining. "Oh, I trust you, B. I just know that trouble has a habit of finding you," she jokes.

My bottom lip sticks out and she leans in to nip at it. I squeak and pull my lip back tight against my mouth. Her dark eyes twinkle under the club lights, making me warm all over.

She pulls on my hand and guides me through the crowds towards the back of the bar where the restrooms are located. I take the opportunity to admire her leather-clad backside as we make our way closer to the bathroom.

"Like the view?" she calls over her shoulder.

Normally getting caught staring at her would cause me to blush or at least make me tear my eyes away. But tonight is different. Tonight I've got nothing to hide.

The women's bathroom is dimly lit, but surprisingly large for such a modest-sized bar. I suppose it makes sense that the women's bathroom would be big at a lesbian club though. The tiled room is narrow with a long-line of bathroom stalls along one wall and a string of mirrors and sinks located on the opposite wall.

A thickly built woman with spiky, bleach blonde hair and a lip piercing stands near the front door. "One at a time," she barks out.

She crosses her meaty arms across her ample breasts and glowers at those of us waiting in line, daring us to disobey her rule. When she glares at the girls at the front of the line who wait for the next available stall, a few shift their eyes to the ground.

"Why is there a bouncer in the girl's bathroom?" I covertly whisper to Faith. It's not like we're in that bad of a neighborhood where I'd be worried about getting stabbed in the restroom. This extra security makes no sense to me.

"Probably to make sure there's only one person in a stall at a time," she responds.

"Why would they…" I trail off and my eyes go wide when I suddenly answer my own question.

She smirks knowingly. "You can close your mouth now, B."

Suggested Listening: Rhianna – "Where Have You Been"

Back out in the club, we make our way to the semi-crowded dance floor. It's still early, but the bar has started to fill out since we went into the restroom. I can feel eyes on us as we make our way, hand-in-hand, towards the edge of the small dance floor. I don't know if it's because I'm now a local lesbian celebrity or if Faith and I just naturally attract onlookers. Either way, I feel myself wilting slightly beneath the attention.

When we find a space on the floor big enough for the two of us, Faith pulls me close and presses her mouth solidly against mine. When she pulls away, I'm slightly panting. "It's just you and me," she says, her dark eyes staring hard into my own. I nod, fixated on the smolder of her gaze.

She turns me around, grabs my hips, and pulls me close so my backside is cradled by her longer body. Her arms goes around my waist, and I feel her full breasts press into my back.

We swing back and forth like this for a few minutes, our bodies moving as one. The hand that's not holding me tightly around the waist wanders down to the bottom hem of my skirt. She innocently plays with the material, but I feel anything but innocent right now with her so close, but not close enough.

"I can't wait to get you home," she pants in my ear. Her fingers dangerously walk along the tops of my exposed thighs.

"There's always the bathroom," I say, unthinking. Some of our first intimate moments early in our relationship happened in the bathroom of clubs we'd hit up on our way home from routine patrolling.

Without saying a word, and before my brain has time to register what's happening, she clamps her warm hand around my wrist and drags me off the dance floor in the direction of the bathroom. She's moving with such speed and such purpose that I nearly trip over my heels trying to keep up with her hurried pace.

Faith slips into the women's restroom, pulling me behind her. There's no longer a line for the next stall. Most of the bathroom stalls appear empty, but a few women stand in front of the sinks and mirrors, washing their hands and fixing hair and make-up. Unlike before, the bouncer is standing on the opposite side of the long, narrow bathroom.

The formidable woman knocks hard on one of the closed stalls. "You'd better have four legs," she barks threateningly. The door immediately swings open and two women walk out, both ducking their heads and looking sheepish.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Faith pulls me into the second empty stall. So far we're undetected. I guess being a slayer has some perks.

My heart is pounding in my ears when I close and lock the stall door behind me. The adrenaline rush is not so unlike the thrill of slaying, which admittedly I've started to miss after only a short break from routine patrolling.

Faith's hands immediately circle my waist. "You gotta keep quiet," she husks into my ear. "Don't wanna get tossed out on our ass by that Big Bertha out there for breaking the rules."

"What about…" I gulp down a mouthful of air. My eyes drop to the floor. "Two sets of shoes," I point out.

She looks down to the floor as well. We may have snuck into the stall undetected, but it's only a matter of time before the burly female bouncer notices the extra pair of shoes in the single stall.

Her hands creep under the bottom hem of my skirt again. "Then we'll just have to make it look like there's only one person in here."

I raise a questioning eyebrow and her smirk turns into a leer. "Wrap your legs around my waist," is her whispered order.

Even though I know we have to be quiet or we'll be discovered, I can't help the small, pained whimper that creeps out my lips.

She grins and tightens her hold on my right thigh. "Hurry up, B," she quietly urges. "We don't have all night."

I worry my bottom lip, but obey. I channel all my energy to my toes and with a slight bend of my knees, hop up into her waiting arms. When I wrap my legs around her midsection, her left arms wraps around my waist. I feel her solid hand in the center of my back, keeping me steady. She rearranges my weight in her arms and I cling onto the back of her neck, worried she's going to drop me.

"Don't worry, B," she says with a small grunt. "I've got you."

She turns us around so my back is now up against one of the stall partitions. I'm practically pinned between her body and the wall, but it doesn't make me feel claustrophobic. Only turned on.

Her free hand, the one not holding me in place, creeps up the bottom hem of my skirt. "It's like you're a psychic or something," she burrs, "wearin' this tonight."

I bite my bottom lip when her free hand slides further up my muscled thigh beneath my thankfully loose skirt. Her fingertips lightly skate over my skin before coming to rest on the elastic of my underwear at my hip. She curls her fingers beneath the waistband, just teasing me.

Her lips purse. "Are these the red ones?" she asks quietly. Her hand is on the move again as if she's trying to map out the outline of my underwear with the tips of her fingers.

I shake my head. "They're purple. They're new," I manage to gurgle out.

Those slightly pursed lips curl up. "Just for me, huh?"

Before I can answer, she deepens the kiss. She flicks her tongue against my lower lip and I immediately part my mouth, allowing her access. I groan in disappointment when she pulls her hand out from under my skirt, and she bites back my sudden moan that threatens when her hand palms my breast over my camisole.

Her fingers curl over the low neckline of my top, and she gently pulls the stretchy material down, pulling down my bra cup along with it. She cups my bare breast, urgently kneading the pliable flesh, and I feel my nipples immediately respond to her aggressive touch. She knows how sensitive my nipples are, and even though this is just supposed to be a quick fuck in the women's restroom, she's still attentive as ever. Her nimble fingers pull and pinch at a hardened nipple, sending intense shocks of arousal straight to my core.

I cling tighter, squeezing her ribcage between my thighs and I scratch my short, polished nails down her back. She groans and presses her full weight against me more, pinning my back harder against the bathroom partition. I'm a little afraid we're going to destroy the bathroom and cause the stall walls to crash down, but when her hand leaves my breast to once again return to its position beneath my skirt, my fears evade me.

She arches her back, creating more room between our upper torsos. It's just enough room to allow her to slide her free hand between our bodies. Her fingers brush along my panty-covered slit, and I wonder if she can already feel my arousal through the material. I suck in a quiet, sharp breath when she starts to rub my clit through my underwear. She presses down with just the right amount of pressure that my hips involuntarily jerk forward. Even though my view is obscured because of my bunched up skirt, I can feel everything.

She buries her face in my neck. "So warm," she mumbles against my skin.

She continues to rub my clit through my underwear in lazy circles, and with my legs spread apart and wantonly wrapped around her torso, I have no choice but to get wetter and wetter. I bite down hard on my lower lip when she presses what feels like two fingers against my panty-covered hole. She presses harder, pushing the cotton material into me.

She continues with these maddening, shallow thrusts until I have no choice but to beg. I grip the back of her neck harder. "Please," I whimper.

I half expect to see a taunting, cocky look on her face, but when I look at her, I see only determination etched across her beautiful features. Her eyes are slightly narrowed and she licks at her lips in concentration. I'm a little worried that she's just going to rip my underwear completely off in her desire to get closer. But instead of destroying my new underthings, she pulls the crotch material out of the way and suddenly her fingers are slipping inside.

She slides into me hard, bottoming out. I gasp, just once, but it's sharp and loud and her two fingers immediately still inside me. We're silent, unmoving, as we both wait to see if we've been discovered. But after a tense minute passes with no one knocking on our stall door, her fingers start to move again. She flexes her digits, curling up into me. My head falls back, and I unintentionally bang my head against the metal partition wall.

"Careful, B," she quietly crows. "Don't give yourself a concussion."

The arm wrapped tightly around me slides down a little to give her other hand better range. She slowly, deliberately slips her fingers all the way out. She rubs my arousal against my clit before sliding back in. I gnash my teeth when she continues these careful ministrations. It's the only thing I can do, short of biting my tongue off, to keep from crying out.

"I wish I could see you," she growls lowly in my ear. Her breath is warm and wet. "I wanna see your pussy sucking on my fingers."

I close my eyes tight and release what I hope is a quiet, yet shuddered breath. I whimper in agreement. We need to get home so we can do this the right way.

She widens her stance and shifts my weight in her arm. To keep from falling, I flex my thighs and press my knees into her sides like I'm riding a horse. The thought gives me an idea. I grab onto her shoulders for better balance and leverage, and I start to roll my hips so I'm riding her fingers.

Her dark pupils blow as she watches me grind my pelvis against her hand. "Fuck," she moans in a pained tone. "God you're so fuckin' hot, B."

Sweat starts to trickle down the small of my back and a series of quiet grunts are coming from me, unbidden. She must feel me tightening around her fingers as my orgasm inches closer because her slow, deep thrusts have started to quicken. There's a tightening in the pit of my stomach, warning me that I'm close.

"Faith," I pant. "Don't stop, baby. I'm so close. Please don't stop," I desperately plead.

She fucks harder into me. "Never gonna stop," she promises.

When my orgasm crashes over me, it's with such force that I throw my head back. It feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs. My body goes rigid and my biceps ache from holding onto her so tightly. I can only imagine how tired her arms must be.

My eyes flutter close and my breathing is heavy. I can't tell if the sound throbbing in my ears is my rapidly pulsing heart or the echoing bass from the club. Faith's forehead is pressed against mine, and even though it feels slightly sweaty and sticky, you couldn't pull me away for all the lesbians in the world.

Our moment is broken, however, when a pack of loud, giggly women pour into the restroom. Their voices echo in the tiled room, and I slowly slide back down Faith so my feet are once against on the floor. My knees buckle when my shoes touch the ground and Faith's arm is back around my waist to steady me.

"You okay there?" she chuckles.

I nod sheepishly. "Yeah," I croak. The sound of my voice surprises me. It's strange to hear it echo in my ears after futilely trying to be quiet.

I suddenly hear the booming voice of the bathroom bouncer and I'm struck with a wave of panic. Oh God. We're going to get caught. We're going to get dragged out of the bathroom by that woman out there and everyone will know what we were doing.

"I'll go out first, okay?" Faith says into my ear. Her warm breath tickles me. "Lock the door when I leave, and then you can follow me whenever you're ready. I'll be waiting by the bar."

I give her a relieved smile. I hope she recognizes that my anxiety isn't about being seen with her; I'm just a little embarrassed that we had sex in a public restroom. I'm already infamous enough at this bar without adding that to the list.

She leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. "Don't keep me waiting, cutie."

She leaves, and I refasten the lock on the bathroom stall. I wait a few beats before venturing out myself. Faith has gone back out into the club, but I walk straight to the sinks, not making eye contact with anyone.

I stand before the wall-length mirror and appraise my reflection. I straighten the neckline of my camisole and pull some paper towel off the rack to wipe the smeared lipstick off my mouth. It's Faith's color, not mine. I tilt my head to the side, continuing to inspect my reflection. My hair is slightly wild, but I kind of like the look, so I leave be rather than fuss about it not being perfectly flat-ironed anymore.

I smile broadly at the blonde woman in the mirror. To be honest, I look like I just had sex in a bathroom stall. And surprisingly, it doesn't bother me at all.

The night air is brisk, but it's not too cold, so we decide against calling a cab in favor of walking home. Since I behaved tonight, seemingly having passed her "do-over" test, we walk in the direction of her apartment, hand-in-hand.

I nuzzle into her shoulder when a crisp breeze ruffles my hair. "So is this the kind of stuff you were talking about before?" I squeeze her hand in mine to emphasize my question.

She looks down at our entwined fingers. We just seem to fit. "Yeah," she acknowledges with a broad smile. "This is great."

I bring our joined hands up to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. "So what else do you need me to do to prove myself?" I smile. "I'm eager to please."

She shrugs beneath her light leather jacket. "I honestly don't know what I want anymore. What's gonna be enough, I mean," she quickly clarifies, glancing in my direction. "The more I think about it, the more I know I'm being silly."

"Being silly?" I question. "About what?" I swing our hands back and forth in an exaggerated motion, unable to deny just how free and uncomplicated I feel right now. But maybe that's just the post-orgasmic glow.

"It's just silly cause I've been waiting for some big gesture from you, when I know it's the little things like this," she says, holding up our connected hands, "that matter more." She laughs quietly. "I mean, it's not like you can throw yourself a Coming Out parade down Main Street."

Her words cause me to stop mid-stride and our hands slip apart. Faith only walks a few more steps before she realizes I'm not still beside her. She stops and turns to quizzically appraise me. "You okay?" she asks.

I nod and feel a strange smile creep onto my lips. It's almost a manic smile, I'm sure, because I suddenly know how I'm going to get this girl. And more importantly, keep her.

TBC