We've Got This All Wrong

When Ryan pulled away from the kiss, I stood motionless. I was dumbfounded, to say the least. I had always found him incredibly attractive, and maybe pictured the two of us taking out our sexual frustration in a lavish bed with silk sheets, but sometimes I wondered if my "I want to jump your bones" urges came from him being the best looking of the males I surrounded myself with. His kind ways and good humor also didn't go unnoticed. My girlish heart didn't stand a chance.

I stared up at him, wide eyed, waiting to see what he would do next. Some small part of my logical mind expected him to apologize for his drunken behavior, but a large part of my hormonal urges were screaming at me to pull him close and lock lips again.

He said nothing; he didn't need to. I could see the intensity burning in his dark eyes. My heart started to race as I took his hand in mine, an act of approval. We stood like that for a moment, hand in hand, gazing at one another, before he led me upstairs and into my room.

Once inside, I quickly shut and locked the door. I knew what was coming, or rather what I was hopelessly expecting to happen, and I most certainly did not want to be caught in the act.

"Your room looks different tonight," Ryan mused.

I turned to see him glancing at the piles of clothes that littered my room. My cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. "I'm sorry it's so messy…" I trailed off.

"It's not different because of that." He chuckled lightly to himself.

I tried to smirk, but I managed an awkward pout. The butterflies in my stomach were making it hard to think straight, but I could without a doubt feel the tension that settled over the room. The anticipation, the nerves, and the lust hung heavily between us.

By no means was I a virgin, but I was quickly beginning to doubt my experience as I stood self-consciously by the door. My mind was racing: Should I make the first move? Should I say anything? What if he regrets the kiss now? Do I have any condoms? Oh God, did I put on sexy underwear this morning?

Due to my minute, mental panic attack, I failed to notice Ryan approach me until his arms snaked around my hips, fingers hooked onto my belt loops, and pulled me into him.

The doubt I was feeling earlier quickly vanished; I knew what I was doing. The close proximity of his body also helped fuel my actions. I slowly felt my way from his waist, up his torso, to his neck. I pulled him closer, savoring the anticipation running through my veins. He complied, lowering his face to my own and lightly brushing his lips against mine.

I groaned. I appreciated his thought process, but now was not the time for him to tease me. The eagerness coursing through my body was building, and all I wanted was him, now. If he kept this up, I would explode.

He laughed. "I always knew you were impatient, but I never imagined it would extend to the bedroom."

I rolled my eyes at him and decided to take matters into my own hands, literally. I thrust my lips upon his in a series of deep, needing kisses and slid my hands under his shirt. His body was warm and hard under my soft hands.

He took notice of my urgency and tightened his grip on me before leading us to my full-sized bed. There, he gently laid me down, never once breaking our intense kiss.

After what felt like a few heated hours, my impatience grew excruciatingly noticeable. My kisses became more fervent as I began to lift his t-shirt up. Our lips separated momentarily to discard the fabric, but resumed their heady actions once it was rightfully out of the way. I then helplessly fumbled with the button of his pants, cursing my clumsiness. It felt like ages before I felt the denim submit to my will, allowing me to hastily jerk them off.

Ryan took this as his cue to repeat the same steps with my clothing, albeit more successfully than I did. Once my jeans were nowhere in sight, I breathed a sigh of relief: I noted the black, lacy boy shorts I had on.

Our undergarments were next to fall victim to our rash actions. They were thoughtlessly cast aside to join the other casualties of the night.

And then it was just the two of us. Skin on skin. Passionately bringing in the new year.

Once we were both physically spent, panting and sweating, Ryan let out a low chuckle.

"What?" I asked, curious as to what reason he would have to laugh after what we just did.

"Happy birthday to me," he sang before pulling me closer to him. He rested his head on my bare shoulder and I felt his lips against my neck. I then heard him whisper what he wouldn't remember in the morning, what would change our relationship forever: "I love you."

I woke up startled, sweaty, and out of breath, to a van full of laughing boys. It took me a moment to realize that the memory I just relived was in the form of a dream. A very real, very sensual dream.

"Sounds like someone had a good dream," Brian chuckled from the bench in front of me. Sal and Jer sat on either side of him, laughing. Ryan was quietly driving and Dan was riding shotgun, fast asleep.

"Shut the fuck up," I muttered, thankful that I was sitting in the back by myself. I would've been mortified if one of the Three Stooges heard me mumble a name in my sleep.

"Looks like she's still hot and bothered!" Sal nudged Brian.

"Or maybe the dream was cut short," Brian snickered.

"Ugh," I groaned and was attempting to get comfortable when I caught Ryan's eyes staring at me in the rear view mirror. I quickly looked away, partly ashamed of what I'd just remembered and partly ashamed of how I'd been treating him.