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After glancing in the mirror for what seems like the millionth time, I realise that as per usual my ebony hair won’t agree with me so I just tie it up. Then my eyes move down to my outfit, a black puffball dress, leather jacket and red converse. If Cara thinks I’m wearing heels tonight, she’s got another thing coming.
Ignoring the comments of already drunk men (classy) I shove my hands into my pockets and telling them to piss off, make my way to were Cara’s party is. Turns out its some grimy bar. Tentatively, I push the door open with my foot and a pair of skinny arms launches themselves around my neck.
“Cassie!”
“Hey, Cara, Happy birthday.” I push a twenty I took from the till into her hand.
“You shouldn’t ‘a! Let’s siddown with the others.” She drags me to a table and drops me into a chair. A beer is passed to me which I accept and sip. Glancing around the table, there’s Piggy (with her turned up nose), Scar (AKA Scarlett), Carly and a couple other girls I don’t know.
I drink a good few more beers and the bar starts to fill up. A band plays and Cara decides she wants to dance. No one else does, but I feel bad for her and agree. But soon what started out as a fun dance gets too sweaty as a group of guys try to take advantage. Luckily I’m not all that drunk and get them to fuck off, but it’s a different story for Cara. The band stops playing, but no one was really listening to them for the last few songs because some guys were fighting. I pull Cara out of the group and wipe mascara from her wet cheeks.
“So, I guess this place isn’t too good for you after all then, huh”
I turn around and see Dave from the store earlier. Only now he’s all sweaty and topless. I manage to avert my eyes from that fact, though.
“Believe me, there are places I’d rather be.” I snort.
“David!” Cara smiles and sniffs at the same time.
“Hey, Cara. Wait, what’s wrong? Don’t cry on your birthday!”
“No, I’m fine. Wait how do you guys know each other?”
Dave says, “We met today,” But I say, “We don’t.”
Cara smiles creepily and stalks off. Dave turns to face me. “I was kind of bummed when you didn’t call.”
Really? Why would anyone want a call from me?
“Uh, and why was that?”
“I don’t know. I just kinda like you.”
“Well maybe you should get to know a girl before you go straight ahead and ask them out, drummer boy.”
“That reminds me! What’d ya think of the show? Was I too fast?”
“Wait, what? That was you?” I can’t help but think now; the rhythm section was pretty good. “Well, not bad... for a dropout.”
Dave snorts and even I smile a little. “So what kind of music do you like?” It’s an interesting question. The types of questions people ask show a lot about them.
“Rock I guess.” He seems to appreciate my answer and he lists bands.
“And finally... Led Zeppelin.”
“Hell yeah!”
“Come outside with me?”
“Um, what?”
He blinks and then pleads, “Please come outside with me?”
I can’t help but find this kind of weird. But for some reason I agree. I guess I enjoy being with him, even though I just met him today. I guess – and I know it sounds cheesy as fuck – but the fact we like the same music brought us together. He grabs a black tee shirt from the stage and drapes an arm around shoulders. I have no idea how to respond to this. I don’t go on dates, I don’t have boyfriends. I haven’t kissed a boy in a couple of years even, but I decide to awkwardly put my arm around him, rather than just let it hang there. He kicks the door open before releasing me, taking my hand and leading me over to a low brick wall which he sits on. I perch next to him, and he stares at me.
“I don’t get you, Cassie.”
“I’m really not all that complex.”
“Well, you don’t call me.” He says, staring intently at me as he pulls a cigarette packet out of his pocket, “But you’re out here with me now. Do you like me or not?”
“I didn’t know you then.”
“You don’t know me now.”
“Well, I know I want to know you more.” I’m embarrassed I said it. Dave tries to hide an obvious smile and inhales the cigarette. He offers it to me but withdraws and says, “I forgot, you’re a good girl. No drinking, no smoking...”
I consider telling him I’m going to add ‘smokes’ to my ‘list of reasons I do not want to date this guy,; but I’m kidding myself if I don’t take it, so I say “Shut the fuck up and hand it here.” As I inhale the toxic fumes it begins to rain and Dave suggests we go inside, and, just like a movie or something, when we stand up we find ourselves bumping into each other, too close to deny any tension. He takes the cigarette from my lips and kisses me, at first tenderly, but then he drops the cigarette and grabs my waist. My hands are around his neck, the kiss deepening in pace and becoming more passionate. Dave lifts me up and sits back down on the wall. I fall into his lap, trying to copy what he does – I told you I haven’t kissed in years – the way he used his tongue, the way he kissed me along the jaw. His hands are on my ass cheeks but I don’t even care. It was fucking perfect, everything. We’re soaking wet because of the rain but that somehow makes it better. I slide of his lap and say, “I guess you can put that number back on the counter.” I walk back to the bar to tell Cara I’m going, not wanting anything to ruin the perfect night. But as soon as I walk in the girls are disbanded around the room, making it hard to see anyone. It’s not long before I’m rammed against a wall.
“Hey, pretty.”
I almost gag as he burps in my face. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” It’s a lie but if that’ll get him off me, it’s worth a shot.
“Yeah? And I have a girlfriend. But none of ‘em are here, so what’s it matter?” He kisses me very wetly on the mouth, as I struggle underneath his body.
“Hey, man. Get the fuck of my girlfriend.”

I barely remember what happened but my ‘boyfriend’ who turned out to be Dave grabbed my hand and ran out, dragging me behind me.
“What the hell, did you punch him?”
“To protect you!”
I almost laugh in his face. “First of all, I can protect myself. Second of all, he was just a drunk idiot!”
“No, you don’t get it!”He stops running and grabs my face in his hands. “I know guys like that; they won’t stop ‘til they get what they want.”
I guess it really does mean a lot to think someone actually cares about me. “I noticed you called me your um, girlfriend.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” His hands fall from my face, and it’s as if my face fell with it. “It was really unfair of me to kiss you like that.” I’m sinking into the ground.
“What? No! It was perf-”
“No! Listen, Cassie, I’m moving to Seattle.”
I’ve sunk.