Writing buddies

Amy is sitting cross legged on the bed on the other side of the room. She’s making a face of true, pure, and deeply honest disgust, her eyes squeezed tight, nose wrinkled. She sets down the shot glass, and reaches for the small, lukewarm cup of orange juice I’ve poured for her.

“Yeeeeechhh!” She exclaims after she gets the juice down. “That stuff is vile.”

I give her a grin and hold up my own glass of vodka. “Cheers, girly.” I pound it in one fell swoop. I almost don’t make a face before I get the chaser. Almost.

“Ahh, delicious,” I say, shaking my head back and forth, enjoying the warmth coursing through me. Amy rolls her eyes at me and shifts around on Laura’s bed.

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing a shot. You invited me over so we could write together…” Amy is smiling though, clearly also enjoying the sensation.

“I can’t help it that I’m so persuasive. And besides, you know that just a little nip helps ya loosen up,” I give her a shimmy of my shoulders, which makes her laugh. Have I mentioned I like the sound of her laugh? “Gotta get those fingers ready for action.” I let the shimmy travel down my arms, turning into finger wiggles. It makes her laugh again.

She gives me a little finger wiggle back, then gestures towards the bottle. “Where’d you even get that stuff?” she asks. It’s the cheapest swill you could possibly imagine.

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” I say, giving her a wink. She rolls her eyes again.

“Fine, Jo, fine. Want to do some writing now, though? I do want to make some progress.” As she talks, she’s pulling her laptop out of her backpack and propping up some pillows to make some back support. As it boots up she gets a thoughtful face that turns into a sheepish smile. “I… you know, the next scene I want to write is really, um… spicy.” She flushes her pretty shade of pink, something I’ve really come to enjoy.

“Oh yeah?” I say, leaning forward. “Spicier than the river? Because I loved that. So hot. More like that please!”

She looks down, embarrassed. “Spicier, yeah. Honestly, you might be right about the alcohol. Loosen me up to write something a little dirty.” She says the last word quietly, like she’s worried about getting in trouble from an adult. It’s adorable.

“You’re adorable,” I say before I can think about it. She looks up at me in surprise, an earnest expectancy on her face. I don’t know how to respond, so I just give her a big, exaggerated wink. She looks… disappointed at that? Weird.

“But, um, yeah.” I say, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. “You inspired me to write too! I want to write some spicy scenes myself.”

“What’s it going to be about? Wait, I don’t want to know. I mean… I don’t want to have it spoiled.”

We settle into our writing positions, me on my bed, her on Laura’s. I definitely miss Laura, but it definitely has been pretty fun having my own room. Even if I haven’t had any lovers over yet. Well, I haven’t had any lovers, period. But maybe having Amy hang out will bring the good vibes to attract the boys.

Amy is already at it, fingers flying across the keyboard, focus coming to her easily and quickly. Even with the alcohol in her, she looks right at home, right in her creative element. I put on some relaxing music, and get settled myself.

I look down at the Word document open on my screen. So far, I’ve written “Girl gets fucked by guy at music festival. She is hot, guy is SUPER hot. Dancer guy? BIG COCK. Dirty dancing???”

Great start, Jo!

Uh, now, what to write?

≋ ≋ ≋

After some time, I haven’t made much progress. This is hard. Like, why do my characters feel so flat? I mean I’m doing a great job describing his chiseled abs and long fingers; you know, “turgid member” sort of stuff, but it just isn’t clicking. It doesn’t feel hot. How does Amy do it?

I look up at her again. She’s taken a more relaxed position, spread out a bit. It’s pleasant watching her work, it’s like she feels perfectly confident and content in the world she’s in. Such a contrast to her usual nervous social energy.

Now I’m not even writing, I’m just watching her from across the room, the laptop screen lighting up her face. She stops, pausing to think for a moment, and her eyes flick up to me. A small smile appears on her face, and I wave.

Smooth, Jo.

She looks at me quizzically, and then laughs. I laugh too. Without saying a word, I turn my waving hand into a pointed finger: pointing right at the bottle of vodka. Amy follows my point with her gaze, and then sighs, nodding.

Still staying silent, I dance over to the desk and pour a couple shots, followed by some orange juice. Dancing with her shot and chaser in hand, I bring the glasses over to the nest she’s made on Laura’s bed. She accepts them silently, giving me a comically solemn nod. I almost laugh and ruin the impromptu silent game, but keep it together. I give her a serious face back, which almost cracks hers.

I go grab my two glasses, and then scootch up on the bed next to Amy. She silently mouths “Three, two, one-” and we both take our shots, followed immediately by the orange juice.

“Yuck!” Amy yells out, losing in spectacular fashion. Then, we both break into gut busting laughter. I drop my shot glass and it falls to the floor, which is somehow even more hilarious. We both crack up, lungs heaving, bodies shaking.

As our laughter subsides, she looks over at me in a way that makes my heart flutter. I want her to keep looking at me like that forever. Spontaneously, I swing my legs over, and plop them into her lap. She looks surprised, and then relaxes, leaning back. She casually rests a hand on one of my shins, and gives me a warm smile.

I feel like we’re already just such great girlfriends.

There’s no chance I’m going to be able to keep writing. I glance at Amy, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. It’s making me brave. “So, nerd girl,” I tease, nudging her leg with my foot. “How did you get into all this fantasy and stuff? Like, what inspired you to write your story?”

Amy’s eyes light up, and she seems to forget her shyness in her excitement. “Oh, it was totally my dad. He was like, the biggest nerd in the 80s. He showed me all the cool stuff: Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons & Dragons… you name it.”

“That sounds awesome,” I say, being genuine. My parents were the strict type, never would have let something like D&D into the house.

“Oh, it was. He even had this old, beaten-up D&D starter set. We used to play together when I was little. He would be the Dungeon Master, and I got to be the brave knight or the powerful wizard.” She’s smiling so widely now, and I can tell she’s lost in the memories.

“That explains a lot, you daddy’s girl,,” I say.

“Yeah,” she sighs, still smiling, in a little bit of a forlorn way. “I miss those times. Dad got really busy with work and we kind of stopped playing. But he always encouraged me to write my own stories, create my own worlds. I guess when I think about it, that’s how I got into writing.”

“I love that,” I say sincerely. “It’s so cool that he encouraged you like that. My parents… not so much. In fact, they got so fed up with me, they sent me to an all-girls boarding school. It was totally fucked up there, super strict. No time for ‘silly games.’”

“That sucks,” Amy says, her face falling in sympathy. “But hey, you’re here now, writing spicy scenes and bullying me into taking shots with you.” She gives my leg a little squeeze.

I laugh, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “Hey! I’m not bullying you. I’m a bad influence. Big difference. But yeah, true that. I’m making up for lost time. Did I tell you I totally led an insurrection?”

Amy looks at me, skepticism written across her face.

“No really!” I say. “Had a rebellion magazine and everything.”

“Well you’ve got to tell that story now!”

All of the sudden I realize that I don’t really want to talk about my parents or my past right now. It feels stale and dead. Not at all like this cute girl here with me and her warm energy and sweet past. That’s where I want to be right now. “I’ll tell you later. Promise. Instead, tell me more about your dad,” I prompt her, rocking my feet in her lap again. “What else did he introduce you to?”

“Fine! I’ll get the story out of you eventually,” Amy says. “As for my dad… he was like, an encyclopedia of nerd. He had this huge collection of old comics and sci-fi books. We would spend hours just reading together. He read aloud ‘The Hobbit’ for me when I was really little, it was my first fantasy book. I was hooked after that.”

“I’ve actually never read that,” I admit, feeling a little sheepish.

“What?!” Amy exclaims, looking genuinely shocked. “Oh, we are so fixing that. You have to read it.”

“I’d like that,” I say, smiling at her. “Maybe you can be my guide to all things nerdy. You still owe me a stargazing session!”

“I would love that,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Hey, the winter sky is coming, and it’s beautiful on this part of the planet. And maybe you can teach me how to, I don’t know, be cool or something.”

I burst out laughing at that, and she joins in, her laughter just as hearty as mine. She is absolutely correct that I am the right person for cool lessons, I am SO cool. “Deal,” I say once we’ve calmed down. “Nerdy lessons for cool lessons. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Sounds perfect,” she echoes, and our eyes lock for a moment.

Yeah, we’re definitely not getting any more writing done tonight. But somehow, I’m perfectly okay with that.

Sensing a lull in the conversation and feeling the buzz from the alcohol, I decide it’s time for another round. I spring up from the bed, a little wobbly, and do my little shot-pouring dance again. Amy watches me, her eyes following my every move, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Last one,” I declare, bringing the glasses over to her.

“Last one,” she agrees, her voice steady, but she’s looking loose.

We do the shot ritual once again, and the familiar burn of the vodka makes me feel invincible. I can’t help but laugh as Amy makes a face, her disgust at the taste of the alcohol even more pronounced this time.

“Alright, hot stuff,” I say, sitting back down on the bed next to her. “Your turn to grill me. But keep it in the present. I’m a forward looking girl. What do you want to know?”

Amy seems to think for a moment, her eyes searching my face. “What about Laura, your roommate? What’s she like?”

“Oh, Laura’s super sweet,” I start, eager to share. “She’s like, major girl-next-door energy. Super into her boyfriend, though. Like, they are attached at the hip.” I get a mischievous glint in my eye. “But ya girl had a bonus sexy experience with them right before Laura had to go…”

I go on to proudly recount our little voyeuristic adventure. I keep the details brief, but I can’t help the excitement in my voice as I share the story.

“And you just watched, didn’t do anything?” Amy asks, her eyes wide.

“Nope, not a touch. All I did was get an eyeful, well, and touch myself,” I say, smiling at the memory.

Amy smiles too, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s a sadness there that I can’t quite place, and I’m too buzzed to really dive deep into it.

“So, do you like Laura?” Amy asks suddenly, her voice casual but her eyes intense.

I pause, taken aback by the question. “‘Like like’ her? No, no. She’s great and all, and super hot, but I dunno, she’s my roommate, my friend. It’d be weird somehow? She’s hot though. And she’s so into her boyfriend. So, no.”

Amy seems to relax at that, her shoulders losing tension slightly and the intensity leaving her eyes. “Oh, okay. Just curious,” she says, her voice lighter now.

We sit in silence for a moment before she looks at me again, her gaze steady. “Do you like girls?”

The question catches me off guard, again, somehow, and I feel a flush rise to my cheeks. What? Again, she makes me the blusher! I’m the one who makes the blushes happen. We’ve established this! How dare she!

And, weirdly, I don’t know how to answer her question. “I mean, yeah. I think girls are great, and some girls are hot. But the all girls high school was just, not a sexy time? I never even thought about doing anything with the other girls. I just thought about boys the whole time. I guess now I’ve never really thought about it, I guess.”

Amy just nods, her expression unreadable. “Just curious,” she says again, but this time there’s a softness in her voice that wasn’t there before.

I want to ask her the same question, want to know what she thinks and feels, but the words stick in my throat. The room feels heavy all of a sudden, charged with an unspoken tension.

Instead, I just smile at her, hoping my eyes can convey what I’m too scared to say out loud. And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, I think they do.

Amy seems to sense the tension in the air and deliberately breaks it with a laugh, shaking her head slightly as if to clear away serious thoughts. “Okay, okay, story time. I was talking about D&D, and I also had a group in high school. Do you know how it works?”

I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips as I lay back on the bed, placing my legs back in her lap. “Nah, remember? You’re supposed to give me nerd education. I’m all ears.”

“Well, at the core, it’s really about collaborative storytelling, and making an adventure with your friends. And you each have a character. With my group I was playing this mage who was fascinated with portals, and she…” Amy starts telling me a story from her high school D&D group, her voice animated and full of life. She talks about the ridiculous adventures her character went on, the absurd decisions they made, and the hilarious consequences that ensued.

As she talks, I find myself getting lost in her words, the warmth of the alcohol and her presence making me feel relaxed and content. I close my eyes, letting the sound of her voice wash over me.

Amy’s hands find their way to my legs, her touch light and gentle as she continues with her story. I can feel the laughter in her voice, and I can’t help but smile, enjoying the way her happiness seems to fill the room.

And in that moment, with the sound of Amy’s laughter in my ears and her touch on my skin, I realize that this is exactly where I want to be.