I'm holding my breath for some reason. I'm hoping she's never heard of us; I hate groupies. "Rook."
She lifts one shoulder slightly and paired with the look on her face it says I'm sorry before she even opens her mouth. "I'm sorry, I don't know that one. What do you play? What instrument?"
I'm not offended. I'm so not offended. "It's okay, we're not British. I wouldn't expect you to have heard of us." Her cheeks redden, but her smile softens, and I continue. "And I play the drums."
That devilish laugh bubbles up again. "I was right then about you, a bit naughty."
I raise my eyebrows and neither confirm nor deny.
She glances at her watch. "Bollocks!" She's already standing and pushes in her chair, looking flustered.
"What's wrong?"
Wiping sweat from her brow that isn't there, she says, "It's my roommate's dog. She's sick, and my roommate's out of town at a funeral, and I was supposed to give her medicine thirty minutes ago."
She's genuinely distressed and that makes me sad because she's, you know, distressed, but also a little happy because I know she's telling the truth and this isn't an excuse to blow me off. "Listen, I realize that dating is off the table because you're completely repulsed by it at the minute due to the wanker, and geography will eventually make it impossible anyway, but can I call you? See you again? No expectations, we'll just have fun while we're both here."
The terror fades and her eyes brighten. "I'd like that."
I take out my phone and hand it to her, and she quickly types her number in. I text her, Hi, and she smiles when her phone chimes from her pocket.
"Can I walk you to your car?"
"Oh, nah, I don't have a car. I walked. I just live in the apartments 'round the corner."
I shake my head and inwardly cringe that she just divulged that personal information to a stranger. "You shouldn't tell a dude you just met where you live. I could be a serial killer."
She smiles that confident smile. "But you're not, naughty boy. I thought we already confirmed that."
I grin. "Can I walk you home then, since I already know where you live?"
"Yeah, I suppose so. I don't usually walk alone after dark."
Robbie and Jamie are still playing pool when we walk back through the bar, and by the looks of it, they're hustling two middle-aged dudes. I tell them I'll be back in fifteen minutes and they both slap me on the shoulder, it's a Get 'em, Tiger! gesture, but they hold back on words, thank God.
The walk is fast paced. She's worried about the dog. When we get to her door, I make a mental note of her apartment. Number 215. I point across the parking lot. "We're in 171."
She nods and repeats, "171, got it."
This is a little unusual, because I want nothing more than to kiss her, along with a few other things, but I'm nervous. I'm never nervous around women. I know how to handle myself.
Her eyes are searching me up and down. "Listen, Franco, I'm honestly usually not this forward, so don't think badly of me for asking, but I need to medicate the dog. Your lips are lovely, and it's been a really long time since I've been properly kissed..." She pauses and embarrassment and bravery duke it out in her lopsided grin. Bravery wins and she continues, "Are we going to snog, or shall I just go in?"
I throw my head back in laughter and then I take her face in my hands and look her in the eyes. "You're fucking perfect, you know that?"
Her head nods between my hands and she winks. "I tend to agree with you."
And then I kiss her and her mouth has the same effect on me that her accent does. I'm lost in it. She's not shy, her hands are resting on my hips, but as the kiss deepens arms snake around me and she holds me tight.
I have to remind myself this is only a kiss and this isn't going any further than a kiss. My dick, on the other hand because it's been a long ass time, wants more. It's begging for it. The walk back to the bar is going to be uncomfortable at best.
I've decided that I want to live like this, my mouth attached to hers, forever. Because not only is her tongue driving me mad, but the sounds she's making are blowing my mind. It's not moaning, it's not heavy breathing, it's not whimpering...it's just pleasure. That's the only way I can describe it. She's with me completely. We're both feeling it, and she's not ashamed to let me know exactly how into this she is. And when I feel the minute shifts of her body against mine, I know I need to let her get inside to the dog, or there's going to be an embarrassing, but damn satisfying, dry humping session on her doorstep.
Grudgingly, I break the kiss and stare in her eyes.
She returns the unabashed stare and licks her lips. "Right. Guess we're going to snog then."
I want to kiss her again so goddamn bad. My hands are still tangled in her hair, and it would be so easy to lower my face to hers, but instead I say, "You'd better get inside to the dog."
She nods very slowly; it's dubious agreement. "Damn dog."
I kiss the tip of her nose before I release her. "I'll call you tomorrow, Gemma."
"You'd better. And I was right," she says while she unlocks her door.
"About what?" I can't wait to hear what she says.
"Definitely the fun kind of naughty." She winks and opens the door. "Night, Franco."