Knickers

Loose-Lipped Tipsiness

Now that we've broken the touch barrier, there are less rules to be considered. So, for no real reason at all, we link arms and start back toward the bus, rambling to each other about fond memories of Warped Tour.

He interrupts himself mid-sentence to ask me, "Can we skip? Let's skip."

So we skip, giggling like children, until Dom starts to surpass me. Naturally, I can't let him beat me, so I accelerate to surpass him. After a few repetitions of this we wind up in a full blown sprint, racing and cursing at each other, our voices wicked away by the summer wind. When we reach the bus both of us double over, breathless but satisfied.

"I won," he pants.

"Wrong."

"What d'you mean, wrong?"

"My grandma runs faster than you."

His jaw drops to hide his amusement. "Fuck off!"

"You fuck off. I win."

"Alright, fine. Whatever makes you feel better." He yanks his hood down, then reaches behind him to yank his sweater off, over his head. As a result, his hair is an even bigger disaster than before. "Anyway, this is my tour bus, I call her Daisy. You two are already acquainted."

"Sorry for trespassing, Daisy," I say to the bus.

"No, no, no." Dom ties his sweater around his waist and claps a hand over one of the headlights. "Daisy only speaks French."

"Oh," I say. "Je suis desolée pour...fuck, how do you say trespassing?"

"I didn't know you spoke French," he says, linking arms with me once more and guiding me toward the door.

"I don't."

"Yeah, I was teasing."

He opens the door for me, gesturing me in with a grandiose bow and a wave of the hand. I ascend the stairs into the darkened bus, feeling my way partway down the aisle. It smells similar to how I remember it, but there is a notable lack of suffocating sunlight scorching the still air inside.

"Where's Adam?"

"Partying with Tom," Dom's voice emanates through the darkness. A few lights come on, but their plastic covers are fogged and scratched in such a way that the atmosphere glows a dim, cloudy yellow. "I'll let him know that you missed him, though."

"He's an enigma," I say, dropping my backpack onto the nearby counter. "Lately it seems like he's always there to witness me falling on my ass."

"Right," Dom says, stooping to a cabinet and revealing a bottle of vodka and a box of juice pouches. He begins to mix them haphazardly between two mugs. "And then he says, 'Alright?' all cute-like."

"How embarrassing," I lament, scanning the tour bus for all the details I missed yesterday. There's a charming little drawing taped to the wall opposite the cabinets that looks as though it was made by a child. Lined up in the corner of the leather-lined seating is an array of pink stuffed animals. A string of taco shaped lights hangs overhead.

"What about your Warped Tour boyfriend?" Dom asks, handing me one of the ceramic mugs, this one adorned with a cartoon unicorn. He taps his own mug to mine and sips his drink. "He recover alright?"

"I don't know," I say, sniffing the contents of my cup. "I never actually got his phone number. I would also like to make it known that he was the fucker that dared me to steal some underwear."

Dom nods knowingly, barely resisting a smile. "You nicked my knickers."

I plop down on the long line of cushions against the wall of the tour bus, disturbing the neat line of pink plush toys at the other end. He sits beside me, stretching out, manspreading in every direction possible.