Jennie's POV
I am beyond annoyed at Lisa's unnecessary attitude, but I try to forget it and brush the tangles out of my wet hair and put on the light pink lingerie I bought today. I slip a T-shirt over my head and look over my stuff for tomorrow. All I can think about is where she went; I know I'm obsessive and a little crazy, but I can't help worrying that she's with Nancy.
While deciding whether or not to call Lisa, I receive a text message from Wendy saying that she won't be back tonight. She might as well move in with Bambam and Jackson; she stays there five nights a week and Bambam absolutely adores her. He probably told her about his job on their second date and he probably wouldn't snap at her and leave for no reason.
"Lucky Wendy," I say to myself and grab the remote for her television. My fingers press the buttons absentmindedly and I settle on a rerun of Friends that I have seen at least one hundred times. I can't remember the last time I watched television, but it's nice to just lie in bed and watch a simple comedy, to escape from the most recent pointless fight with Lisa.
After a few episodes of various shows, I feel my eyes getting heavy. In my sleepy state my anger momentarily disappears and I text Lisa good night, but she doesn't reply before sleep overtakes me.
"Shit." A loud thud wakes me up. I jolt upright and turn on the lamp to find a stumbling Lisa trying to navigate the dark room.
"What are you doing?" I ask her.
When she looks up at me her eyes are red and glossy. She is drunk. Great. "I came here to see you," she says and plops down in the chair.
"Why?" I whine. I want her here, but not drunk and at two in the morning.
"Because I missed you."
"Then why did you leave?" "Because you were annoying me."
Ouch. "Okay, I'm going back to sleep; you're drunk and you're obviously going to be mean again."
"I'm not being mean, Jennie. And I'm not drunk . . . okay . . . I am, but so what?"
"I don't care that you are drunk, but it's a school night and I need my sleep." I would stay up all night with her if I knew she wouldn't say hurtful things to me the entire time.
"It's a school night," she mocks me. "Could you be more of a square?" She laughs like she's just said the funniest thing ever.
"You should just go," I say and lie back down, turning to face the wall. I don't like this Lisa. I want my semisweet Lisa back. Not this drunk jerk.
"Aww, baby, don't be mad at me," she says, but I ignore her. "Do you really want me to go? You know what happens when I sleep without you," she says, just above a whisper.
My heart sinks. I do know what happens, but it's not fair for her to use that against me when she's drunk and taunting me.
"Fine. You can stay, but I'm going back to sleep." "Why? You don't want to hang out with me?"
"You are drunk and being mean." I finally turn back around to face her. "I'm not being mean," she says, her expression neutral. "All I said was you were being annoying."
"That's sort of mean to say to someone. Especially when all I did was ask you about your job."
"Oh God, not this again. Come on, Jennie, just drop it. I don't want to talk about that right now." Her voice is whiny and she slurs her words.
"Why did you drink tonight?" I don't mind if she drinks; I am not her mother, and she's an adult. The thing that bothers me is that every time she drinks there is a reason behind it. She doesn't just drink for fun.
She looks away from me and toward the door as if planning an escape. "I . . . I don't know . . . I just felt like having a drink . . . well, drinks. Can you please stop being mad at me? I love you," she says and brings her eyes to meet mine.
Her simple words dissolve most of my anger and I find myself wanting her arms around me.
"I'm not mad at you, I just don't want to backtrack in our relationship. I don't like when you turn on me for no reason, then just leave. If you're mad about something, I want you to talk to me about it."
"You just don't like to not have control over everything," she says and wobbles a little.
"Excuse me?"
"You're a control freak." She shrugs as if it's a known fact. "No, I'm not. I just like things a certain way."
"Yeah, your way."
"So I guess we aren't done fighting, then. Anything else you want to throw in there while you're are it?" I snap.
"Nope, just that you're a control freak and I really want you to move in with me."
What? Her moods give me whiplash.
"You should move in with me—I found an apartment today. I haven't signed anything yet, but it's a nice place."
"When?" It's hard to keep up with the five personalities of Lalisa Manoban. "After I left here."
"Before you got drunk?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes. The light from the lamp hits the metal of her eyebrow ring, and I fight to ignore how attractive that is.
"Yes, before I got drunk. So what do you say? Are you going to move in with me?"
"I know you are new at this dating thing, but people don't usually insult their girlfriend and ask them to move in with them in the same sentence," I inform her, chewing my bottom lip to suppress my smile.
"Well, sometimes the said girlfriend needs to lighten up." She grins.
Even drunk, she's charming as hell.
"Well, then said the other girlfriend needs to stop being a jerk," I say to retaliate.
She laughs and moves from the chair over to my bed. "I am trying not to be a jerk, I really am. Sometimes I can't help it." She sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm really, really good at it!"
"I know," I sigh. Regardless of this episode tonight, I know she really has been trying to be nicer. I don't want to make excuses for her, but she has done much better than I expected.
"So you will move in with me?" She smiles hopefully.
"Jesus, let's take this one step at a time. I will stop being mad at you for now," I tell her and sit up. "Now come to bed with me," I instruct. She raises an eyebrow as if to say, "See, control freak," but stands up to pull her jeans off anyway. When she removes her shirt she puts it on the bed before me, and I love that she wants me to wear her shirts as much as I want to.
I pull my shirt off to slip her over my head when she stops me.
"Fuck," she blurts out and I look up. "What are you wearing?" Her eyes are dark and wide.
"I . . . I got some new underwear today." I flush and look away. "I see that . . . Fuck," she repeats.
"You already said that." I giggle. The light in Lisa's eyes is blazing for me—and it makes my skin tingle.
"You look incredible." She gulps. "You always do, but this is just . . ."
With a dry mouth I look down to where her boxers strain against her growing bulge. The energy between us has changed for the fifth time tonight.
"I was going to show you earlier, but you were too busy being a jerk." "Mmm," she mumbles, clearly not paying attention to what I'm actually saying. She places her knee on the bed and looks my body up and down again before climbing on top of me.
Her lips taste like whiskey and mint, and the combination is heavenly. Our kisses are soft and teasing, coming together and drifting apart, her tongue playfully gliding over mine. Her hand wraps into my hair and I can feel her erection press against my stomach as she brings her body closer to me. She lets go of my hair to hold herself up on her elbow and use her other hand to touch me. Her long fingers run along the undersides of my lace bra, dipping down inside of it and back out. She licks her lips as she cups me with her large palms, rubbing up and down.
"I can't decide if I want this to stay on . . ." she says. I couldn't care less; I am too mesmerized by her graceful fingers on my skin.
"Off it is," she says and unclasps my bra. I arch my back for her to pull it off and she groans as her crotch presses against mine.
"What do you want to do, Jen?" Her voice is shaky and uncontrolled.
"I already told you before," I say as she pushes my panties to the side. I wish she wouldn't have drunk tonight, but maybe her half-drunken state will make me seem less awkward.
I cry out as her fingers enter me and I wrap one of my arms around her, trying to grasp on to something, anything. I reach between us with my other hand to palm her. She groans and I squeeze gently and stroke her lightly.
"You're sure?" she pants. I can see the uncertainty in her clear green eyes. "Yes, I am sure. Stop overthinking it." Boy, have the tables turned, that I'm the one saying this to her.
"I love you. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes." I press my lips against her. "I love you, Lisa," I say into her mouth.
Her fingers continue pumping in and out slowly and her mouth moves to my neck. She sucks at my skin harshly, then slides her tongue over the ache to soothe it. She repeats this over and over, and my entire body is on fire.
"Lisa . . . I am . . ." I try to say and she quickly pulls her hand from me, kissing me as I whimper. She scoots back and hooks her fingers around my panties, pulling them down my legs. She places both of her hands on my thighs and squeezes gently before kissing down my stomach and blowing on my wetness. My body involuntarily lifts off the bed and her tongue moves up and down while she wraps her arms around my thighs, keeping them apart. Within seconds my legs begin to shake and I grip the sheets and she continues lapping her tongue around me.
"Tell me how good it feels," she says against me.
Strangled sounds escape my lips as I try to say something, anything. Lisa continues to say dirty things, licking me between them, forming a delicious pattern as my body shakes and my toes curl. When I regain consciousness she brings her mouth back up to mine, a strange taste on her lips. My chest is heaving and my breath is staggered.
"Are you . . ." she begins.
"Shh . . . Yes, I am sure," I tell her and kiss her, hard. My hands claw at her back, then pull her boxers below her hips. She sighs as the restriction disappears, and we both moan as our skin touches again.
"Jennie, I . . ."
"Shh . . ." I tell her again. I want this more than anything and I don't want her to keep talking.
"But, Jennie, I need to tell you something . . ."
"Shh. Lisa, please stop talking," I beg and kiss her again. I grab her erection and slide my hand up and down its length. Her eyes close and she sucks in a sharp breath. Instinct takes over my actions and I brush my thumb over the tip of her, wiping away the dampness there and feeling her pulse in my hand.
"I'm going to come if you do that again," she gasps. Suddenly she pulls up and jumps off the bed. Before I can ask where she is going, she pulls out a small packet from her jeans.
Oh. This is really happening.
I know I should be afraid or nervous, but all I feel is my love for her, and her for me.
The anticipation of what is coming next fills me with wonder, and time seems to slow down while I wait for her to return to the bed. I had always thought my first time would be with Kai, on our wedding night. We would be in a huge bed in some fancy bungalow on a tropical island. But here I am in my small dorm room, on my small bed with Lisa, and I would not change a single thing about it.