Get A Room!

~:*:~ Forty-Three ~:*:~

Chace

The Massey soccer team laid claim to Stoneline Residence for Prank Night, eager to egg their place for all the yellow and red card stunts they pulled during the final game. In the end they still lost, but it was a sweeter victory for us to make their place smell like sulphur farts for a while.

It was fairly quiet in their hallways as the freshmen either went to sleep already or were out pulling their own pranks on the other dorms. I was quite sure that Stoneline would target us for winning the game, but there was no way their prank would be as good as ours. Plus we left a good defense system at home base to shoo them away if caught.

Jedson was mysteriously absent from the festivities, but Nate told us not to worry.

Our team split up into pairs and each took a floor. Leona tagged along to Stoneline and went with Nate to the sixth floor.

I was with Ian on the fifth floor. Before this, the two of us were drinking in our room to sort of celebrate our reconciliation, although we never spoke of the matter. It was like a silent acknowledgement that we were pleased. I only had a couple of beers, but Ian gulped down almost an entire six-pack in an hour. Before he left, he snuck a flask of whisky into his jacket pocket. He'd been nursing the drink as we crept through the night to our target.

So basically, Ian was completely drunk to the point of slurring his words, staggering, and having an embarrassing amount of verbal diarrhea.

I took charge of unscrewing all the vent covers as Ian 'supervised'. It was the only job I could give him at this point; I couldn't trust him to hold or place the eggs without fearing that he'd prematurely break them all!

Things started to get weird when I was standing on a chair to unscrew a vent that was particularly high. Without any warning or provocation, Ian placed his hand on my ass. I froze in place, wondering if I was dreaming. When he readjusted and I felt his other hand make contact, I knew that this was real. I chalked it up to it just being a poorly thought out way to support me on the chair as I reached for the highest screw.

But then he began to squeeze my cheeks.

"Fuck... you really do have a firm ass!" He slurred his words in delight. "A lot of people commented on your fan page about what it would feel like. They even zoomed in on some of the pictures to get a better look. Too bad they can't just grab it like I can!" He burst out in a fit of laughter.

I spun around on the chair, forcing his hands free from my ass. "Who said you can grab it?! My ass is none of your business..."

He took another sip from his flask before grumbling, "Then how do I make it my business?"

"What?!"

He grabbed the front of my shirt to pull me off the chair. I stumbled and basically fell into his arms like some chick in a k-drama, but I suppose that was Ian's intention. Our faces were inches apart as he searched my gaze, all sultry and serious as he said, "Will you give me permission to touch you? What do I have to do to make you mine?"

Do people actually spill their secrets and speak the truth when they're drunk, or is that just a myth? Can I actually trust words that someone wouldn't even dare to consider saying sober? Shouldn't we find truth in what our loved ones say when they're completely aware of it, and not when they'll forget it and can deny it in a few hours' time?

Should I let this moment give me hope that Ian might one day love me back? Or perhaps that he already secretly does?

I pushed him away and jumped back on the chair. "Quit playing around. We've got an entire floor to egg before anyone sees us."