Across the Hall

First Quarter

She arrived in the middle of the first quarter, like a girl coming out of a commercial. She wished she'd brought beer. The hem of her red dress kept floating into the frame of the TV, and she was almost certain it caused the boy closest to her to miss the first down.

He gave her legs a fleeting, almost accustory, glance. "You're not here for the game, then?"

"Technically I am a Patriots fan," she said, and when he looked up at her, she smiled brightly down at him.

Another boy across the room threw a chip in her direction and gave an unfeeling boo.

"Quick," she said, still looking at the first boy, "give me something to throw back."

He smiled, looking at her now for far more than a glance. He handed her a can of beer and raised his eyebrows, daring her.

"Easy," the chip thrower said.

She weighed it in her hand and then cracked it open, laughing.

"Hey." Another guy, striking in a way the others while all attractive weren't, emerged from a door behind him, revealing a room that looked almost clean in a slapdash manner. He had sweatpants and an unmarked t-shirt on so you couldn't be sure what team he was rooting for.

The chip thrower said, "You couldn't greet her at the door, Jesus, Patrick, have some manners."

"How about you stop participating so much," Patrick said and finally turned to her. His look was direct and unselfconscious. "Ignore them, yeah?"

She tried, and nearly succeeded, save the weight of the gaze of the boy—would she call him a boy—on the armchair steady not so much on them, but her. She could almost feel the burn of it on her cheek.

"Do you need anything?" Patrick asked.

"No," she said and there was only the barest ruffle to her voice, something only those closest to her would notice, "I've got a drink already."

Patrick took a step back towards the door he emerged from. "Yeah, you're making yourself quite at home, aren't you?"

"Well, it's a good spot," she said and followed him into the room. The boy-man in the armchair turned his head slightly to watch the door close.

"Nice," she said, breathing easier. It was easier with the door closed. She smiled, scanning the room. It was neat, a little bare, lots of navy and gray accents, nothing descript or particularly personal. It was what she wanted out of today, out of this person. Something pleasant but non-descript.

"I had to clean a little, that's why I didn't get you. The place needed a bit of a spruce." He didn't look particularly shy or apologetic as he said it and she was glad for that too. Nothing too sincere.

"I won't look under the bed," she said, taking a step towards him and laying her palm on his chest. "No closets."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, smiled and put a hand in her hair, his palm against the back of her head as he kissed her.

It was what she came for, this simplicity: a bit of introduction and then down to business or pleasure, really, hopefully anyways, but he seemed promising, practiced. Engaged in the moment but he wouldn't ask to cuddle afterwards. It was what she wanted. It was why she wore a dress, an easy one off.

They fell into it fine for the first time, a bit of clumsiness but they handled it good naturedly. When the zipper of her dress go stuck as he moved it down, she lifted it over her head.

He helped her smooth down the condom when it got stuck.

She told him gently if he could just move up his finger and go a bit to the right, they'd both be better off.