I’m not exactly sure how we get back to Brandon’s house.
It’s not that my memories aren’t intact, although the beer is definitely doing its job loosening me up. I spend the whole evening laughing at his jokes and quietly marveling at how sweet and empathetic he is. I don’t remember this about him. Did he always have this softer side?
I remember him paying the bill, and I remember that when he got up to leave, I got up with him. I remember the moment on our walk home when I should have turned toward my father’s house if that was where I wanted to go.
I don’t remember deciding not to turn.
And now he’s looking at me with those emerald green eyes, and I know I’m in for a wild night.
“I can’t believe you look like this,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I’m almost dizzy with anticipation already. I know what’s about to happen, and yet I feel like I don’t, and there’s something intoxicating about that.
“This is just what you wear around your house?” he says. “You didn’t know you were going to get fucked tonight. What were you thinking when you put those clothes on?”