It’s a Fast Song
I’m not sure what time it was. But I am sure it was some time past midnight. If I am completely honest, it all happened by accident. It was unexpected. As most good things usually are. Maybe that is why I can’t stop thinking about it. There was something different about the night: the shittiest DJ in town was surprisingly good, the beer I chose at random from the menu was surprisingly good, and everyone seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood.
She was laughing and smiling and laughing. I could hear her from where I was standing a couple feet away. My drunk friends were joking and messing around, and I nodded to prove I was listening to what they were saying. But I wasn’t. Part of it was because I had a decent buzz going on, but mostly I was just too busy paying attention to the way she laughed. I see good looking girls all the time, I thought to myself. There was nothing to suspect this time would be different; yet, this time it definitely was.
I was introduced in arguably the most awkward way possible. My friend, who was more or less about to black out, introduced me as her single friend, who lives in San Francisco, and is desperate to find a girlfriend. I was fucking embarrassed, irritated. If I could have snapped my fingers and at that moment appear in my bed under my blankets, I would’ve done so in a heartbeat. Of course, that wasn’t an option. So my dumbfuck self said, “nice to meet you, future girlfriend.” What the fuck. Who says that? That is the corniest, dumbest shit I could have said. And yet, I said it like a well rehearsed line.
And she laughed. And I couldn’t believe it. And so we talked. And it was the easiest thing to do. And we talked some more. And we laughed. And she smiled. And I smiled. And I loved that she traveled. And I asked about the food in Campeche. And I was surprised she didn’t like the people in Guanajuato. And it wasn’t easy to kiss her while she was talking.
We were dancing towards the end of the night. Her body ebbed and flowed along mine, not forcefully grinding on my crotch, but rather slowly making her way around me. My hands, wanderers trying to find something along her breasts, then down. It was all happening very slowly. She would turn around and stare into my eyes. Her dark brown eyes brighter than the flashing lights about the room. We took our time. Then she whispered something in my ear. But the night was late, the music was loud, and I couldn’t hear what she was trying to say.
