Not too early, though

I knocked on the door around 9:30, having waited until the trickle of guests had strengthened to a stream (and the knot in my stomach had become unbearable) to make an appearance. Frank answered it with a big grin, “How the hell are you?!” He was already drunk.

“Good!” My voice cracked. I hadn’t used it yet; it was soft and airy.

“I’m Frank,” He fist bumped me.

“Grace,” I had at least remembered to prepare that much.

“Come in, Grace. Help yourself to whatever looks good.”

I stepped into the low-light of the party. Wind whispered across my exposed skin. A few people glanced in my direction, and I tried to put on a warm facade as I stepped into the kitchen. I pulled a beer out of its case (it’ll be a long time before I trust liquor again), and someone stepped up beside me.

“Jack,” he said.

I turned to face him: he was practically a different person now. I’d seen him when I was a man, but there had been so much I hadn’t noticed. The sliver of stomach peeking out from under his shirt, fuzzy and hard. A jaw that could chew gravel. Broad shoulders that gave way to an iron neck. His forearms.

What the fuck.

I could see the veins in them, tensing and relaxing as he twisted his beer in his hands. I remembered to take a breath, and, yes, he smelled like beer, but there was so much more there that I’d missed last time: firewood and mint and power and sweat.

“Umm, uhh, Grace,” I managed to say, looking up at him.

He’s seven inches taller than me now. He could sling me over his shoulder without a second thought.

I tried not to shiver, “I’m Grant’s roommate.”

He failed to hide his surprise, “Oh fuck yeah! I wish he could be here right now. Did he tell you where he is?”

This guy is so nice.

“Just some family thing, I’m not sure. I’m honestly not around very much.”

“Oh?” I’d piqued his curiosity with that.

“I travel a lot. I just got back from this work-study thing in Germany.”

The lie fit neatly atop the truth. I was pretending to be my roommate. My roommate was on a work-study trip. Ergo, I just came back from that very trip. Ignore the part where I was a girl, and it hardly even qualified as a fib.

“I’m glad you’re here now. Let me open that for you.” He produced a bottle opener from a pocket and popped the top off in a careful motion.

I drank, and, as it passed down into my stomach, I felt some of my nerves go still. “Thanks.”

“I have a question for you,” he furrowed his brow into a look of mock seriousness, lowering his voice until it resembled a rumble rather than speech. The sound of it punched me in the stomach.

“What is it?”

He leaned in, “Do you support our troops on this Memorial Day?”

I smiled and replied back in a whisper, “Of course, nothing could be more important.”

“Cause all this–”

That voice, his scent, his closeness, I can’t–

“–the partying, the drinks, the pretty girls, it just wouldn’t be possible without a trillion dollar military industrial complex.” He finally broke into a grin.

I’m the pretty girl.

I put my free hand on his shoulder and murmured into his ear, “Thank God for military contractors.”

He laughed, voice returning to normal, “Okay, that’s about as much mileage as we can get out of that bit.” He walked me out of the kitchen and into the living room, “Now that it’s over, you can be honest: is it in poor taste?”

“Oh absolutely,” I said. Already he’d evaporated my fears. Just two people shooting the shit. “Now is it funny? Eh, kind of.”

“Kind of funny. Hmm, that is… good enough for me.” He guided me to a spot on the couch. A spirited discussion was already taking place as Jack sat beside me.

I took measured sips from my beer as this guy, Daniel (I wasn’t so drunk that I was forgetting names this time) regales everyone with some story about getting hit in the face at a mosh pit. The closeness of Jack meant I could only half pay attention. An odd, not entirely uncomfortable feeling stirred inside me.

I adjusted my seat and leaned against him. His body made mine hum. He glanced at me, and I looked into his eyes. In them, I saw a softness, a concern, a kindness. He put his arm around me, pulled me a bit closer.

I am so fucking wet right now.

The realization startled me, forcing me to avert my gaze. No one else seemed to notice or care. I took a deep breath and another swig of beer.

I am not getting fucked tonight.

Are you sure?