Wasted Nights

2019, South Ganuala.

“Let’s do it,” Gianna whispered in between her heavy breaths.

With eyes still closed, she could feel the rise and fall of his already bare chest, his muscled arms felt strong holding her up. She felt lightheaded, alcohol already taking effect, and she got too carefree whenever she was intoxicated.

But her wanting to make love and bare herself to him had nothing to do with her being drunk. Gianna knew they had unfinished business and she had been imagining what it felt like to do it with him. Him- the superstar, the man every woman wanted. He had always been in the spotlight, as if he was born to bathe in it. Even in their high school years, almost all the female population in their school shadowed him, wanting to mingle in his circle.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice a bit raspy and deep, enough to stir another sensation inside her. Goosebumps dotted her arms as heat warmed her cheeks.

Gianna averted her eyes on him, looking at his solemn gaze. He kind of looked the same when they were sixteen. Same innocent and dreamy eyes, straight nose and lips that just begged attention. What changed was his height and his full sleeve tattoo on his right arm.

“Let’s just do it,” she said again, resting her dizzy head on his shoulder. She was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. She could feel him. All of him.

“We can’t stop once we started, Yanna,” he whispered.

She looked at him again, and though her vision was getting a bit unsteady, her desire kept her on. “I know.”

He stared at her for a moment.

She wondered what his stare meant, feeling the anticipation of his touch. Was he second-guessing? Was she the only one feeling the heat and desire buried deep inside all those years they parted ways? But before Gianna could dwell more of her chaotic thoughts, she already felt his lips on hers, soft and eager at the same time. She parted her lips, letting him in, tasting the bitterness of the drink they downed not long ago, and the sweetness of the moment.

Thirst bombarded her, her stomach churned at the hunger for touch she never thought she wanted. Her mind was fuzzy and she felt like there were fireworks exploding inside her chest as his hand moved from her neck down her lower back, tracing her curve. When he found the hem of her shirt, he swiftly pulled it up her head, tossing it on the floor, momentarily breaking their kiss.

He fumbled at the button of her jeans all the while his lips planted soft kisses just under her jawline, traveling down her nape. Gianna’s breath hitched as his other hand found her breast, his every touch and caress getting her more intoxicated than she already was. His hand and lips had their own magic, every path they went to had left her breathless, turning her greedy as she begged for more. And more and more.

Gianna unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning his jeans as well, admiring his chiseled chest and toned stomach. He then started to carry her, making their way toward one of the rooms, and kicked the door closed.

Part of her was still gauging if that was what she really wanted but there was another voice, more irrational, shushing every doubt, claiming that it was really what she had been dreaming about.

And Gianna knew, at some point in her life, it was the truth.