Put Your Heart Where Your Mouth Is

[Garrett's View]

Three hours after the concert, Andy poked her head out of the bathroom door. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and the shoulder of her extremely short robe slid down, leaving little to the imagination. I loved it. I wanted to talk about what John said. Maybe he was right, but Andy coudn't have felt the same way. The last time she was in this position, a friend of her ex-boyfriend's slipped ketamine in her drink, and raped her. I loved her. I wasn't going to scare her if it killed me. And at this rate, I was damn ready to explode.

"Have you seen my glasses anywhere?"

"Kitchen counter." My voice cracked. She stepped out of the bathroom, the shoulder of her robe falling a little bit more with every step. She smiled at me, grabbed her glasses, and headed back into the bathroom.

"Thanks." She said, turning around, and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Are you alright. Garrett?"

"Just fine." I gulped. Please put some clothes on. "Just...fine."

"Believable." She giggled, and closed the door behind her.

I switched over, and laid face-down on the bed. "I'm going to die." I muttered into the pillows. I felt my phone vibrating in my front pocket, and almost went into shock.

"Have you done it yet?" Wren asked, casually.

"Done what?"

"Fucked your girlfriend! Duh!" I could hear Kennedy laughing in the background. Did everybody know about this?

"No. I have not." I said, glancing at the door to make sure it was still closed. "I can't."

"Why? Lack of genitals? Correction: lack of the correct genitals?"

"Wren!" I said, "Not funny. You know what she's gone through. How do I know she's not going to hate me?"

"Have you even taked to her about this? How do you know she doesn't want the same thing? You see, I have this theory that girls want to fuck just as much as their guys do. It's not all one-sided."

"You and your conspiracies." I rolled my eyes. "Can I hang up now? I want to pay attention to my girlfriend now."

"Attention? Hot damn, Gare-Bear!"

"Sure, sure. Bye." I hung up, and tossed my phone to the coffee table in front of the bed. I missed. It crashed to the floor, knocking over the TV remote, and glass of untouched coffee. "Shit."

"Are you alright?" She asked, stepping out of the bathroom. She was pulling a tank-top over her head. Oh, God. I'd brag about full-frontal exposure, but I loved her enough not to act like John.

I didn't answer. I stood up, grabbed her by the waist, and leaned her back against the wall. There was suprise in her eyes, but she smiled, and pressed her lips to mine. "I've wanted this for a really long time." She said, her lips next to my ear.

"I love you, Andy."

"Ditto." She giggled.