Losing Hope

front of the TV in Daniel’s basement. Daniel and Val are in the chair and they’re completely mauling each other, making me question why Daniel would even want us here in the first place if this is all they’re gonna do.
    Sky and I are watching them uncomfortably. It’s hard to pay attention to the TV when there’s actual slurping occurring.
    The second Daniel’s hand begins to slip up Val’s shirt, I toss the remote at them, hitting Daniel in the knee. He jumps and lifts his hand to flip me off, but never breaks contact with Val’s mouth. He does somehow glance at me, though, and I silently tell him to get the hell out of his basement, or get the hell out of her shirt.
    He stands up and Val is now wrapped around him. They say nothing as he carries her up the stairs and to his bedroom.
    “ Thank you ,” Sky says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I was about to hurl.”
    She’s curled up beside me on the couch with her head resting on my shoulder. I ease myself down into the couch so that we’re more comfortable, and we both look back at the TV. But I know we aren’t really paying attention to it because the energy in the room completely shifted the second Daniel and Val left. We haven’t had privacy like this since we officially started dating two weeks ago.
    Her hand is in mine and they’re clasped together, resting on her thigh. She’s not wearing the dress that completely melted me the first time I saw her in it, but she is wearing a dress. And I love this dress just as much as the other dress.
    I wish she were wearing jeans, though. I overheard Les talking with one of her friends once when we were sixteen. They were about to go on a double date and the friend was explaining to Les the rules of “make-out” clothes. She said if Les just wanted to kiss the guy, she needed to wear jeans because the guy would be less likely to slip his hand where he shouldn’t. Then she told Les if she planned to move past first base, that a skirt or a dress was the way to go. Easy access , she said. I remember waiting in the living room after hearing that conversation to see which outfit Les chose. She walked down the stairs in a skirt and I marched her right back up to her room and forced her to change into a pair of jeans.
    I wish Sky were wearing jeans right now because my hands are starting to sweat and I know she can feel my pulse through the palm of my hand. Her dress makes me think she wants to take things a step further tonight and I absolutely can’t get that out of my head. I sure as hell want to take the next step, but what if Sky doesn’t know the rules to “make-out” clothes? What if she’s wearing this dress just for the hell of it? What if she’s just wearing this dress because her washing machine broke and all her jeans were dirty? What if she’s wearing this dress because she didn’t have time to change into jeans before I showed up at her house? What if she’s wearing this dress because she went to some sort of random church today that has service on Saturdays?
    I wish I knew what was going through her head right now. I rest my head against the back of the couch and swallow the huge lump in my throat before I speak. “I like your dress,” I say. It comes out in more of a raspy whisper because my throat is so weak right now just thinking about her. But I think she liked the way I said it, because she tilts her head and looks up at me, then slowly drops her eyes to my mouth. Thanks to the angle we’re sitting, we wouldn’t even have to shift positions to kiss. Her mouth is so incredibly close, it’s practically on top of mine. But neither of us is taking advantage of that. Yet.
    “Thank you,” she whispers. The sweet breath from her words crashes against my mouth, warming me from the inside out.
    The tension is so thick now, I can’t even inhale.
    “You’re welcome,” I whisper back, staring at her mouth the same way she’s staring at mine. We’re both quiet for a moment, just silently staring. She slides her lips together and moistens them and I’m pretty sure I mutter “ holy shit ” under my breath.
    She likes that she just got me all flustered because she grins. “Wanna make out?” she whispers.
    Oh, hell yes.
    My lips are on hers before the sentence is even completely out of her mouth. I lower my hands to her waist and pull her until she’s straddling me.
    Straddling me in. Her. Dress.
    I keep my hands locked tight on her hips while her hands slowly make their way