She's Glitter and Gold

"You're not serious, are you?" he asks as he looks from me to the dark water.
I grin at him, and in response bend over to untie my shoelaces. "When we were in high school my best friend and I would go swimming here every January."
"But it's December," he argues as he watches me take his coat off. "And I'm not your best friend."
I roll my eyes and start to undo the buttons on my flannel. "Stop making up lame ass excuses and take your shirt off."
I try my best not to shiver as I stand there in just my tank top and jeans. "This is stupid," he grumbles as he lifts his shirt over his head, revealing chest hair and a tattoo that I can't quite make out in the dark.
We both turn to face the water that's licking the shore an inch from my toes. "On the count of three," I instruct, curling my already frozen toes up. "And you have to stay in for at least ten seconds," I add quickly, before counting.
As soon as I say three we bolt into the water, and I regret it about a fifth of a second later. "FUCK!" Jack screams, basically summing up my feelings as I trip forwards and am momentarily surrounded by the nearly frozen ocean.
I jump up, and even if I had wanted to scream or laugh, I wouldn't be able to because the cold water had stolen my breath. "Cold," I manage to squeak out.
Jack, who hadn't tripped and was only up to his knees nodded furiously and shivers out the question, "Ten seconds over?" I nod in response and, just as quickly as we'd run in, we run out. We grab our clothes and run to my car as fast as our numb legs will carry us. After a minute of hesitation I strip out of my stiff jeans and soaking tank top, quickly pulling on and buttoning up my dry flannel. "You should win an award for dumbest idea ever," Jack grumbles as his shaking hands push his jeans down to his ankles, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt.
"It sobered me up a little, so we probably won't die driving home," I say optimistically as I throw my jeans into the back seat and hurry to get in the drivers seat.
He gets in the passenger side and curls his legs against his chest and wraps his arms around himself. "That makes freezing to death much better," he says with an eye roll.
I grin and turn the car on, quickly turning the heat up fully. "You're such a pansy," I tease as I drive off the sand and onto the main road. "Carpe Diem."
"I can Carpe fucking Diem without running into the ocean at one in the morning in the winter!"
"Whining doesn't suit you, Jackery," I smirk and before he can question my nickname I ask. "Okay, where am I going? Where do you live?"
He gives me directions to a part of town I'm familiar with, so we drive quietly for a while, the only noise is Jack's dramatic shivers. "HEY, guess what?!" he says suddenly.
"What?" I ask as I eye the heating vent that doesn't seem to be working.
"I hardly know you, and I've already gotten you out of your pants."
I laugh as I look down at my bare thighs that are covered in goosebumps. "Actually, it was my idea to go swimming," I correct, "So technically I got you out of your pants."
I try focusing on the road, but can't help but notice the grin on his face. God, he was cute. "Damn, I like a girl who takes charge." I roll my eyes and turn onto the street he'd informed me was his, and slowly drive down it, waiting for him to point out his house. When he does, I pull up the driveway and park. "Do you want something to change into that isn't soaked?" he asks, and my current state of nearly being frostbitten outweighs my better judgment and I follow him inside.
"Nice place," I comment as he flips the lights on, revealing a spacious living room that's occupied by a black leather couch and flat screen TV.
"Thanks," he says as he leads me through the house that, even though it's insanely clean, is obviously only lived in by a guy. We walk down a hall and he opens the first door and we walk into the bedroom. He starts digging through his dresser and I look around the room that's a little more cluttered than the rest of the house. The dark blue bed set on the huge mattress is unmade, and an acoustic guitar is on the messy blankets, its case resting on the floor. "Sorry for the mess," Jack says apologetically as he walks over to me with clothes in hand. "My sister came over today and insisted on cleaning everything but my room."
I wave off his apology. "You obviously have never seen Bonnie's room."
His eyes widen. "I have, unfortunately," he says and I think I see him shudder.
I laugh and since coldness tends to outweigh my manners, I snatch the clothes from him and point to the door. "Out," I order.
He frowns and crosses his arms. "This is my house, young lady."
I roll my eyes and push him to the door. "I'll be dressed in like, two seconds," I promise.
"Or you could stay naked and I could warm you with my body," he offers before I shut the door.
"I'll pass," I call through the wood.
"This is a once in a lifetime offer," he says as I pull my flannel off.
"Somehow I highly doubt that." I unhook my bra that's more grey than white from the water and throw it on top of my discarded shirt.
"Please," he scoffs. "How often do you get sex offerings from a famous guitar player?"
"You're not famous," I remind him as I pull a pair of sweat pants up and tie the drawstring as tight as it will go.
"I have like, four hundred and fifty thousand people following my twitter, thank you very much," he says defensively.
"And I bet you mainly tweet penis jokes?" I ask as I pull a Ravens hoodie on. He stays silent on the other side of the door, so I guess I'm right. I grab my clothes off the floor and open the door with a smirk on my face. "Thought so."
He pouts a little, than shrugs. "Whatever, four hundred and fifty thousand people like penis jokes."
I roll my eyes, then motion at my soaking wet bra. "Do you mind if I stick this in your dryer for a few minutes?"
"You're not wearing a bra?" he asks, his face brightening with a smile as his eyes lower to my chest.
"Have I ever informed you that you're a pervert?" I ask as I push past him and start a search for a dryer.
"Only about five times," he laughs. "Dryer's in there," he says as he points to one of the doors. I walk in and stick my bra and now damp flannel inside before turning it on and leaving the small laundry room.
I walk back into Jack's room where he's pulling grey sweats on. His shirt's off again and we're in a well lit room so I can see his tattoo better. My eyes widen. "Is that Jack Skellington?"
He looks at my confused, then down at his chest. "Oh! Yeah, it is."
I move closer to get a better look. "That's so awesome," I gush excitedly. "Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my favorite movies."
This time his eyes widen. "You like that and Home Alone?" I nod once and he smiles widely. "Rihanna, I know we hardly know each other, but I'd like you to be the mother of my children."
I laugh and turn my attention to the black skull and crossbones on his shoulder. "What's this one for?" I ask as I poke the smaller tattoo.
"We all have them,"he says, and by 'we' I guess he means the band. "It's from our one album."
"Interesting," I say as I poke it again for no real reason.
"What about you, Miss Daley?" he asks with a smirk. "Do you have any tattoos?" I nod once and lift up the hem of the sweatshirt to reveal a small black turtle on my right hip. He bends over to get a better look at it. "Woah, you're super hardcore," he teases, and I feel my stomach clench as his warm breath hits my skin.
"This one is so punk rock, it's insane," I joke as I pull the hoodie up higher and turn around to show off the grinning face of the Cheshire Cat tattooed across my ribs on the opposite side of the turtle.
"That's actually really awesome," he says. "Must have hurt like hell to get though."
I drop the shirt and turn around. "You have no idea," I say, subconsciously wincing at the memory.
We talk about tattoos for a while, and he informs me that his dream is to get a penis tattooed onto his penis.
I roll my eyes and skip over to his bed where I pick up his guitar and sit down. "I think you should teach me how to play something," I announce as I run my thumb down the six strings.
He sits next to me and grabs the guitar. "I'll try, but nobody's as skilled with their fingers as me," he says as he wiggles his eyebrows up and down.
I glare at him, then point at the instrument. "Teach me," I order.
He laughs and strums a couple chords. "What song do you wanna learn?"
I cross my legs underneath me and think for a minute. "That depressing cloud one," I say, the name of the song completely slipping my mind.
"Remembering Sunday?" he asks, his eyelids crinkling as he laughs.
"Yeah, that one."
He hands me the guitar back and moves so he can put one arm around me, his hand over mine on the neck of the guitar, and his other hand grabs mine and moves it onto the strings. I feel my heart pick up its pace due to his closeness, but I ignore it and try to focus on where he's telling me to put my fingers. "...and then you strum like this," he says as he moves my hand up and down, resulting in a familiar tune. "Then you move to this chord.." he guides my hand down to a different fret. "and strum like this." I try to keep my attention on his words, but his breath keeps hitting my neck and his bare chest is pressing against my back and the alcohol in my system makes it hard to stay focused. "...And this is the chorus," he says as he moves my hands again. He quietly sings it as he controls my hand, and I force myself to stop thinking about how hot he is.
"I'm not going to remember any of this," I say truthfully.
I feel his chest shake softly as he chuckles and moves away from me, "It's all in the fingers," he says as he smirks and takes the guitar from me.
"Well, I told you, I'm severely lacking in finger skills."
He grins and starts playing an unfamiliar song that looks so complicated, I'm sure he's just playing it to show off. "I could tutor you in strengthening your finger skills if you want."
I eye him, trying to figure out if he's being serious or making an innuendo. "If you mean guitar lessons, yes."
He laughs and stops playing. "I charge my students with sexual favors," he teases.
I roll my eyes and the alarm clock catches my attention. "Shit, it's late," I say as I stand up. "I should get home."
"Or you could stay here and have sex with me," he suggests.
I roll my eyes. "I'll see you later, toolbag."
I start to walk to the door and here him jump up and follow me. "So seriously, if you want lessons from a professional, I'm free all week."
He follows me into the laundry room where I grab my clothes. "I think I'm gonna go apartment hunting tomorrow, but maybe the day after?" I suggest, trying not to sound as eager as I feel. The thought of spending time with him was strangely exciting. Even though he was a pervert with a thirteen year olds sense of humor, he was... Cute.
"Sounds good," he says behind me as I stop in front of his front door.
I turn and smile at him. "Thank you."
His lips curve upwards, and he gives me a quick half hug. "I'll see you Sunday."