"Jessie, have I told you lately how much I love you?"
Kelsey is just finishing her third drink and she's feeling no pain. I'm leaning down to the pool table to take my shot, but when she slams into my side in an attempt to throw her arms around me for a hug I nearly fall over.
"Kels! You made me scratch! Now you owe me a shot," I jab my finger at her before I throw my arms around her myself.
Two hours and three and a half drinks in, I guess I'm feeling pretty good too. I'm actually having fun playing pool with Dean. Jamie, Brit and Christina are sitting at a table sharing a giant plate of cheese fries, scheming over the best way to hook Christina up with some guy at the foosball table. Paul and Dean are laughing at us from across the pool table. They seem to be getting along.
"Dean! Kelsey is buying me a shot. Don't hit on Paul while we're gone!" I grin over at him and wave as we stumble arm in arm to the bar.
"Jessie, I love you. And I love Paul. I even love Dean. I think you should love Dean. He's beautiful," Kelsey is babbling at me while the bartender pours our shots.
I pick up the salt shaker and sprinkle some onto both mine and Kelsey's hands.
"Kels, I can't love Dean. Dean loves boys, remember?" I sway a bit trying to keep my balance on my towering heels.
"That's debatable. From the way he's been looking at your ass while you were shooting pool, I'd say he's over the whole gay thing!" Kelsey licks the salt from her hand, tosses back her tequila, and bites down on the lime as her face contorts from the liquor.
"You're so drunk Kelsey. It's not something you 'get over'," I add obnoxious finger quotes which causes half of the salt to spill from my hand. "He's my f-r-i-e-n-d," I draw out the word for emphasis before I take my own shot.
"We shall see!" Kelsey giggles and wraps her arm around my waist as we make our way back to the group.
My head is spinning a little and I feel like I've got a warm, buzzy, electric current flowing through my body. Is buzzy even a word? It's a funny word.
I plop down on the booth seat by the window next to Dean.
"Hi!" I smile and lean into his side.
"Hey there tipsy, having fun?"
"Tons! And I totally would've beaten you in that last game if it wasn't for Kels…Kelsey," I hiccup mid-word, then cover my mouth as I start laughing.
"Oh yeah? That's debatable," Dean smiles at me and starts laughing himself.
"Oh! Speaking of debatable! So, Kelsey says that you've obviously gotten over being gay because you've been staring at my ass all night, and I should love you because you're beautiful. Isn't she so funny? It's not like you actually 'get over' it, you either are or you're not!" I continue giggling but Dean slowly stops.
He turns to face the pool table with a calculating look on his face. He seems to be considering something. After a minute he glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then looks back at the table. He heaves a sigh before leaning into me, not taking his eyes off the table.
"Kelsey may have a point," he whispers into my ear and a chill runs down my neck causing me to shiver.
I try hard to shake the fuzziness from my head and concentrate on Dean, but his figure keeps going in and out of focus.
"Dean…," I stare directly at him and he's looking into my eyes now, not tearing his gaze from mine.
"Yes?"
"Dean, I—"
"You what, Jess?" He cuts me off, bringing his hand up to my face and brushing his thumb across my cheek.
"…I think I'm gonna be sick."
And I am. All over the floor in front of us.
That's the last thing I remember before the lights go out.
I'm hanging upside down. I know this because all of the blood is rushing to my head and I can feel my arms flopping around above me. The question is, why am I hanging upside down?
"What the hell?" I ask out loud.
"Shit…" I hear a voice hiss and I squint one eye open just in time to see that I'm plummeting towards the ground.
"No!" I throw my hands out to avoid crashing into the floor.
"Calm down Jessie, I dropped the keys, we'll be inside in a minute."
I hear Dean's voice, but I don't see Dean.
Suddenly I'm falling away from the ground, getting higher and higher. Oh, now I see Dean. Actually, I'm face to face with his ass. Not an altogether horrible place to be. He's obviously carrying me over his shoulder, and I can't find a single reason to object. Which is odd. Normally being manhandled like this would earn someone a broken nose and a couple of black eyes. But with Dean it feels…different, like I'm just happy for the contact.
He must be opening the door because we start moving again. I hear keys hit the table and I close my eyes again when he turns to shut the door. Too much motion.
The next thing I know, I'm falling again. This time I'm falling backwards. I start to panic and just before I hit the bed I latch onto Dean's neck, causing him to fall down with me.
"If you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was ask," Dean chuckles from above me.
He's looking down at me and he raises one hand to brush a few strands of hair off my face. His hand lingers against my hair, his thumb sliding back and forth grazing my jaw.
"What happened? Why did we leave the bar?" I ask, because a lump is forming in my throat from the way he's staring into my eyes, and I need to say something before I do something really stupid and embarrass us both.
"You don't remember?"
"Um, no…if I remembered, I wouldn't ask."
"Ok touchy, calm down. Looks like someone is sobering up a little," he laughs at me. He seems to do that a lot. I didn't realize I was so funny.
"So?" I'm genuinely curious because I can't seem to remember a thing after the last game of pool.
"So…you got hammered. Kelsey bought you another shot and you proceeded to tell me how she thinks I'm straight and you should love me, because I'm just so beautiful. That was right before you threw up all over the floor. And your shoes, which is why you're not wearing any."
I close my eyes because his proximity is causing my heart to flutter and I desperately want to remember the events he's describing to me. I vaguely recall shots with Kelsey. Then I remember sitting by the window with Dean and…
"Wait, you said something to me."
"I did," he confirms.
"You said that she might have a point," I strain as I recollect our conversation, "what did you mean by that?"
"What do you think I meant, Jessie?"
I'm so confused. Why is he saying this to me? He has a boyfriend. He's supposed to be my friend. I don't understand why he's playing this cruel joke, but it's not funny. My stomach is doing awful things and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the room from spinning.
"Dean, you have a boyfriend. You remember, the guy you have a date with 'every Sunday like clockwork'? The guy you said 'love you' to on the phone in the lounge? For Christ's sake Dean, you were wearing fishnets and heels when I met you. Now you're trying to convince me you're straight?" I hold on to the side of my head because, between this conversation and the alcohol, I feel like it's about to tumble off my shoulders and crash to the floor.
"First of all, the costume was just that—a costume. I told you, I lost a bet. There were two other guys from my team dressed as chicks too. Do you think I wanted to be seen in public like that? Try to remember, did I look at all thrilled that night? Other than the two minutes I was talking to you?"
I close my eyes again, trying to think back. No, now that he mentions it, he didn't look too happy to be there. But that doesn't explain the boyfriend.
Anticipating my thoughts he adds, "Oh and second, the 'boyfriend' as you so fondly refer to him happens to be my brother Danny. As big of a pain in the ass as he can be, I do actually love the kid, and I'm not such a macho tool that I can't admit to that in public. He's goes to USC so we meet up every Sunday for dinner."
I blink up at the ceiling as I let this new information sink in. I feel very, very stupid. But wait...Dean is straight. Dean is straight and he's laying next to me in my bed. Dean is straight, laying next to me in my bed…and has seen me practically naked!
"You asshole!" I rear up onto my knees and start slapping him, weakly, but I'm attributing that to the booze.
"What the hell?!" he shouts, bringing his hands up to cover his head.
"Not only did you not correct me every time I assumed you were gay, but you sat here today in my room, on my bed, and watched me while I got dressed?! You're a pig!"
I pull back my fist, about to punch him but with my reflexes hindered by tequila he's able to grab my hand before I make contact. He grips my wrist with his other hand and manages to flip me onto my back, holding both hands at my sides so that I'm unable to inflict any damage. I should fight him, I should want to fight him. But instead, I want him to keep touching me. What the hell is wrong with me?
"Ok! Ok, you're right. That was a shitty thing to do. But come on, you made that assumption all by yourself. I didn't even realize you thought I was gay until Kelsey blurted it out today. How could I not have a little fun with you? And for the record, I didn't realize you were going to be walking around in your underwear. Why do you think I had to leave the room?"
"Well obviously it wasn't because you have a boyfriend and my lady parts make you nauseous," I turn my head away from him and frown like a petulant child. Hell, I feel like a damn petulant child right now. How could I be such an idiot?
"No boyfriend. Or girlfriend for that matter. And nauseous? Far from it…"
Now that's some interesting information. Not only is he straight, but he's single. Suddenly our position on the bed is the only thing occupying my mind.
Dean's body is pressing mine into the bed and he's still got his hands around each one of my wrists, binding them to my sides. This should incite panic and sheer terror as it always has in the past, but it doesn't. His face is only inches from mine, and he's staring at me again like I'm some puzzle he's trying to piece together. My head is foggy, but this time I don't think it's because of the alcohol. In fact, I think this revelation has effectively sobered me up. My breath stutters in my chest as I exhale and I swear I can feel every muscle in his body as he leans against me. My eyes are fixated on his lips, they're perfectly shaped and absolutely mesmerizing, especially when they're moving.
Wait, his lips are said something to me.
"What?" I ask, attempting to blink away my intrusive thoughts.
"I said, you look beautiful when you get lost inside your head. I can always tell when you're deep in thought. You get this little V right here…" He releases my left wrist and brings his thumb up to touch a spot between my eyebrows.
My breath catches when his skin brushes mine. I can feel my cheeks start to flush. He trails his thumb across my forehead and down the side of my face until he stops on my chin with his index finger curved underneath it. At this point, my breathing has ceased all together.
He lowers his face to mine until his forehead is leaning against mine and his lips are agonizingly close.
"Jessica…," his thumb skims over my bottom lip and I feel like I'm going to pass out right here beneath him, "…breathe."
I let out a rush of air and he rolls off of me and into a seated position facing away from me on the side of the bed. I feel like I just took a hard blow to the chest with my guard down. I'm panting like I ran a marathon.
I turn my head to the side and see Dean leaned over with his elbows resting against his knees and his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his messy, brown waves. I start to reach my hand out to him just as he stands and walks towards the door.
"What…why…?" I stutter half-questions at him, not understanding why he's leaving so suddenly.
"Relax Jessie. I'm just going to sleep on the couch. I think it's best that we get some distance right now, given the fact that you've already drank yourself sick once tonight. Plus, if I'm next to you one more minute, I'm going to forget that I'm not supposed to be a big, dumb, horny jock. I doubt either of us would care right now, but you might feel differently in the morning."
As if the fact that he's gorgeous, and that being with him is now an actual option, wasn't enough, he just earned about fifty points by not taking advantage of my lack of inhibitions in my drunken state. I wish my body felt as grateful, but right now it is completely at war with my brain and is trying hard to convince me to ask him to stay.
"Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning. Hopefully you'll be able to breathe around me by then," he laughs and shuts the door behind him.
I cross my arms over my eyes and take a deep breath. I don't feel like I'm going to get sick again. In fact, I feel fine. Embarrassment and raging hormones are apparently the key to sobriety. I get up and grab a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top from my bureau, then crack the door open and tip toe to my bathroom. I stand at the sink brushing my teeth for much longer than I need to. I can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that this boy that I've shared so many cups of coffee and silly, pointless conversations with over the past week might actually be interested in me. I think about all the things I wouldn't have said or done had I known that he was potentially datable. I cringe over a few moments, not the least of which being me jumping up and down in my underwear trying to get into a pair of skinny jeans while he watched. I may be happy about this new development, but that doesn't mean I forgive him completely for keeping me in the dark. He's got some groveling to do.
Who am I kidding?
I place my toothbrush back in the medicine cabinet and open the door to creep back down the hall to my room. Before I turn to my door I peek my head around the corner towards the living room. I see his feet hanging over the arm of the couch and I inch a bit closer. He seems to have fallen asleep already, so I just stand there and watch him for a moment. His face looks much softer, younger, when he's sleeping. I wonder what would happen if I just leaned over the couch and brushed my fingers over those long lashes, those lips…
"Goodnight Jessie," he utters with his eyes still closed. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, and I feel my face heat again with embarrassment.
"Goodnight…" I mumble and rush into my bedroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it with my hands covering my face.
What a night.