A Girl Named Mitch Ch. 02

***

I actually woke up the next morning feeling great. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have to worry about whether Ethan was going to show, but I did feel like a weight had been lifted, just like Mitch had said I would. And I was looking forward to going out and partying like a single girl tonight. I never really had let my hair down with Mitch at a party. It was bound to be an experience.

Our final match went well, Mitch and I won our doubles set 6-1, and both Carrie and Mitch won their matches handily. Overall the team went 7-0 to secure the conference championship.

The party started in the locker room immediately after with, again, much music and an extremely unfortunate amount of dancing. We even got Coach Holiday to show us some moves, which were surprisingly not terrible.

Luckily the seniors were the ones who had to deal with the press, so us three Freshmen were able to sneak away. We parted on the corner, each preparing to head back to our dorms and get ready for our night out. We decided to meet back in front of Mitch's dorm in an hour.

I made it back to my room and was standing in front of my tiny little wooden wardrobe/closet thingy trying to figure out what I was going to wear. I didn't own any party clothes, so to speak, nothing racy or sexy. And I wanted to be sexy tonight. I knew Mitch was going to look amazing, and I wanted her to rue the fact that I was straight. Now why did that thought cross my mind?

I tried to picture what she might wear. Maybe a tight white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, her hair slicked back, a belt accentuating her trim waist. I put my hand to my neck and stretched, trying to banish the image and the uncomfortable heat that I felt when I pictured her.

No, this was about the boys. Tonight I was going to turn their heads and leave them wanting, but not getting, more. I was going to get a little even. If I could find something to wear.

The door opened and my roommate walked in, wearing a towel around her torso and another over her hair.

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

"My friends from the team are taking me out."

"Oh, because of Ethan?" Her voice dripped with pity. Lana thought being dumped by someone as hot and rich as Ethan Richardson was nothing short of a Greek tragedy. "It's good. Get out there. Just something for fun."

She dropped her towel, revealing her perfect hourglass figure. My eyes went wide and I turned away from the view of her perfect backside.

"So what are you going to wear?"

I turned back to my wardrobe, such as it was. "I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I want to turn heads tonight."

"You wanna wear something of mine?"

To say Lana had different taste in clothes than me was a little like saying Lions and Zebras had different food preferences. She was a sweet girl, but she dressed to kill, and I honestly wasn't sure if there was anything in her closet in which I'd be willing to be seen in public wearing. At least, before today. "Okay, let's do it."

Twenty minutes later we had half of the clothes she owned laid out on the bed. At least Lana had gotten dressed first. "Ooh, I know, I've got it. Do you have a black bra? A nice one?"

"Actually, yes." It was probably the one nice piece of lingerie I owned, so I grabbed it out of my top dresser drawer. It was simple, plain black, with a shiny exterior. It gave my modest bust a bit of cleavage. I held it up over my shirt. "What do you think?"

"Oh, that's perfect," she turned and pulled something filmy out from her dresser, "for this." She held up a fishnet jumpsuit top. It had long sleeves and a high neck, along with an over the hip cut on the side. My eyes went wide. If I wore that, the only thing covering me above the waist would be that bra. But still, I wanted to be daring.

Once I had it on I turned slowly in the mirror.

"Damn, girl you look good."

I giggled. "Thanks. So what's next?"

Lana quickly determined that I didn't have any distressed jeans. My parents would never let me have any, so she pulled out a pair of her own that had holes in both thighs, among others scattered around. I squeezed into them and buttoned the fly. "They're a little tight."

"That's the idea, and they're perfect." Lana stood back. "Wow, you are going to blow the boys' minds tonight. After we fix the hair. And the make-up."

I was five minutes late getting to Mitch's dorm. My blonde hair was pulled over to the side and my make-up was perfect. Carrie covered her mouth with her hand as the shock registered, but all I could really see was Mitch.

Her mouth dropped open, as whatever she'd been saying to Carrie died on her lips. Her eyes went wide, drinking me in. It was the perfect compliment. I could feel her gaze like a caress, and it made me shiver. My cheeks began to heat in the cool night air, and I dropped my head down and to the side, running my fingers through my blonde hair.

Carrie was still laughing as I reached them. "Oh my God, Cindy, you look amazing! Where did you get those clothes?"

"From Lana. You really like it?" I was looking at Mitch, her perfect blue eyes finding mine, finally.

Mitch nodded slowly. "Yeah, I like it. You're... stunning."

My blush intensified at the desire in her voice. I shook it away. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea. "Yeah, too bad for you."

Carrie shook her head. "You are going to have guys hanging off you tonight."

I made a face and shook my head. "Mm, no thanks. I just want to go dancing."

Mitch recovered her bravado. "Let's make that happen. The Beta Delts are having their traditional pre-finals party, and they have a huge dance floor."

I smirked at Mitch. "Sounds like you've been there before. Sure they'll let you back in?"

"Are you kidding? They sent me a personal invitation."

Carrie laughed. "Sure they did."

We started to walk, and I let myself look at what Mitch was wearing. It was almost exactly what I'd pictured, a simple tight white T-shirt and jeans with a wide belt. A loose fitting jean jacket completed the outfit. Her hair was combed and slicked back, which really accentuated the fine features of her face. She was so striking.

We could hear the noise before we even got to their street, and apparently no one on campus wanted to pass up this one last chance to party before the semester ended. It took less than thirty seconds of being inside before I was being offered a cup of beer, which I gladly took and slammed down.

"Gaah! That's strong."

Mitch nodded, just sipping her own. "Yeah, they're probably putting a little something extra in it. That'll get you drunk quick. Be careful."

I shook my head. "No careful tonight. I want to dance." I took another cup and drank half. I could feel the liquid courage course through my veins. Mitch was right, I didn't drink often, and I was definitely a lightweight. But if I wanted to really let my hair down I was going to need some help, and that was it. Besides, with Mitch there I felt very safe. Carrie got asked to dance, and she was quickly swept away onto the floor, and we waved to a few other people we knew.

I grabbed Michelle's hand. "C'mon, come dance with me."

"Okay, okay." She followed me laughing onto the floor. The DJ was pumping out a beat, and I let myself start to move to the music. Everyone who knows me can attest that I am not a good dancer, but with a few drinks in me I wasn't caring much.

The last time we were off the floor, a girl walked by and smiled at Mitch. I didn't like that, feeling a spike of jealousy, so I immediately pulled her back onto the floor. Once we'd started dancing, I'd felt bad. I mean, I wasn't looking for a guy, and I'd rebuffed the several approaches I'd had tonight, but that didn't mean Mitch shouldn't meet someone.

But she was my friend and she came here with me. And I liked it when we danced. It was nice. Besides, the more I danced, the more Michelle smiled. And I liked seeing her smile. She really was pretty. Or handsome. Or pretty handsome.

"What are you laughing at?"

I tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the silly grin off my face at my drunken, internal witticism. "Nothing, I like your jacket." I moved closer to Mitch, holding on to her denim collar. It was our third or fourth trip to the dance floor, if not more, and I was well past tipsy from the thirst quenching I'd partaken in between sessions. Mitch wasn't inebriated at all, just sipping her way through a couple of non-spiked beers over the several hours.

Mitch created some distance between us, and I pouted internally. If she'd gone off with that girl, she'd be dancing closer with her. Why didn't she want to dance close with me? I was her friend. I weaved a rhythm with my hips, pulling my hair up with my hands and exposing my neck. A glance up told me I had Mitch's undivided attention and I moved closer.

As I did the music changed, the driving beat from a moment ago changing into a slow, sensuous tempo. Mitch took a breath, centering herself. "Should we go sit down?"

I shook my head. "I don't wanna stop yet." I slid my arms around her waist and lay my head on her shoulder. "Dance with me."

I closed my eyes and felt the closeness of her. She was warm and soft and it felt so good. Her arms tightened around me, and that felt wonderful, too. A tear slipped free as I prayed the music would never end. If it did I'd have to wake up, and I'd be alone again. Maybe forever. The music slowed and I started to get scared, but another slow song started without any real silence, and Mitch just kept swaying to the rhythm, taking me with her.

Eventually the music did stop, and I looked up into Mitch's lovely eyes.

"Hey, Cindy, I think it's time to go home."

Oh my God, she was taking me home! What did that mean? I couldn't think straight, but I let her lead me off the floor. We headed out, and Mitch slipped an arm around my waist as we walked in the bright moonlight. For a moment my alcohol-addled brain thought she might be trying to cop a feel, but looking back I'm pretty sure she was just trying to keep me from falling down, seeing as every random air molecule that struck me was causing me to stagger slightly.

Wow, I'd never been this drunk. And I really liked having Mitch's arm around me. God, did I really think that? What was I doing? And why was the street spinning? I leaned against Mitch's shoulder as we walked. That was nice.

"C'mon, Spencer, let's go." Mitch turned me left and up a set of stone steps. She swiped her ID and the door opened, and I stumbled inside. Mitch caught me by the arm and pulled me back into her arms, me giggling like an idiot as she did.

"Oops. I feel spinny."

Mitch laughed. "Yeah, I bet. Let's go to the elevator. I'm not going to try to make you climb four flights of stairs."

"Are we going to bed?" I giggled at the naughtiness of my statement, or at least what my foggy brain perceived as such.

"Yes, we are, where you are going to Sleep. It. Off."

"Aww."

"Cindy, stop that. Please." There was a definite note of pain in her voice, which confused me, but I had no chance of wrapping my head around it in my current state.

The elevator door opened, and we, or rather I, stumbled inside, Mitch keeping me upright. I could feel the fatigue start to wash over me when the door closed.

"No, no. No sleepies for you, not yet."

"Aww."

Somehow we made it into Mitch's room. "Okay, my roommate is gone for the weekend, so you can crash here."

Crashing, yeah, crashing sounded awesome. I needed to lie down.

"Okay, you're not sleeping in that. C'mon, let's get it off."

I sat on the bed and tried to unbutton my jeans. God, these things were super tight. I groaned, laying back and trying to push the denim material down over my hips.

Mitch went down on one knee. "Just a second, shoes first." She picked up my left foot and slipped off the red canvas tennis shoe I was wearing. She peeled off my ankle sock and stuffed it into the shoe, then repeated on the other side. "Okay, now jeans." I flopped around, trying to get them off while she pulled them down by the ankles, and the jeans finally came free. The bare skin of my legs revelled in the cool air, and I stayed prone on the bed. I heard Mitch open a drawer in her dresser.

"Okay, come on, sit up." I gave a pathetic whimper as she pulled me up before slipping the body suit I was wearing off my shoulders. She drew it down my body, and I lifted my hips so she could slide it off. I was disappointed she hadn't tried to release the snappy crotch. No I wasn't, that would be touching too close, but the thought of it made me tingle all over.

Without thinking I reached back and released my bra, letting it fall onto the floor. Now the only thing I was wearing were my panties. I was almost naked. In Mitch's room. Oh my god. I started to giggle, particularly after I saw Mitch pull her eyes away from my bare breasts.

"Okay, arms up." She was a little breathless, but her voice was strong, and I obeyed. She stood over me and pulled a T-shirt down my body, covering me to below my waist. "Comfy enough? Can you sleep in that?"

I was frowning. I didn't want her putting clothes on me. That wasn't fun, but I nodded and she tucked me under her roommate's covers. My jaw dropped open as Mitch shimmied her own jeans off, revealing a pair of blue boxers underneath. She turned away, and I watched, mesmerized, as she unbuttoned and dropped her shirt and pulled off her sports bra, revealing her muscular back and trim waist.

My mouth began to water, and I couldn't look away. She reached into her dresser and pulled out a tank top, which she slipped on before shutting off the light and climbing into her own bed. This wasn't right. I didn't like this. I don't sit over here. I sit over there, with Michelle. Where she could hold me. I liked it when she held me. I gave an unhappy moan. I didn't like these sheets.

"Go to sleep, Cindy." There was a begging note in Mitch's voice, but hearing it just made me want to be closer to her. I pulled off the covers and climbed out of bed. Two shaky steps got me across the room.

"Cindy?"

"Don't wanna sleep alone. Wanna sleep with you." I pulled back the covers and climbed into Mitch's embrace, snuggling into her warmth. Oh, yeah, just like on the dance floor, this was heaven. Mitch drew the covers around us and held me close.

"Okay, just for tonight."

"Mmm." I put my arms around her, burying my face into her neck. God, she smelled good. My cheek brushed against hers. She pulled away slightly, and my face turned towards her. My eyes closed, and I felt my lips brush against hers. Energy coursed through my body, and the drunken fog in my brain lifted for a single moment, and I kissed her. Her lips moved against mine, and I could feel my body tremble.

Her mouth left mine as she pulled me close, and wrapped in her warmth the haze closed back around me, this time bringing blackness with it.

***

When I opened my eyes, I had about thirty seconds before the pounding in my head started, and they were wonderful. Mitch's warm body was pressed against mine, her arm draped over my middle, and my hand was resting on hers.

It felt nice, comfortable, and I was happy for a beautiful second before the splitting headache and blind panic set in. Oh my god, what happened? Why the hell am I in Mitch's bed? What did I do?

I took stock. I was wearing clothes, a T-shirt at least. And, um, I slid my hand down over my hip just to be sure, yes, I was wearing underwear. Thank God. I could see the jeans I'd had on laying on the floor, and my bra was over there. I had a vague recollection of taking them off, or Mitch helping me take them off. Oh my God, Mitch had undressed me. What had she been thinking? What'd I been thinking? The fog lifted a little and I remembered staggering back to the room and Mitch tucking me in. Her roommate's bed was unmade. That's right, she'd put me in the other bed to start. And then I'd, oh, shit. I had to get out of here, I needed to go somewhere and think. I lifted Mitch's arm as gently as I could, sliding out and putting my bare feet on the cold floor. Mitch rolled away, facing the wall, but she didn't give any sign she was awake.

I grabbed the jeans, pulling them on and tucking in the shirt I was wearing before gathering up the rest of my clothes. I put my hand on the doorknob and looked back at Mitch for a moment before heading out into the hall.

***

The sun was well above the horizon, beating its incessant light into my aching head as I made my way back to my dorm. I slipped into my room, closing the door as quietly as I could, but even the soft click from the latch made my head throb. I slipped off my shoes before pulling open the top drawer of my dresser and grabbing a bottle of Aleve and shaking two into my hand.

"Hey, girl. You hook up?"

Oh, brother, I hoped not. "No, no. Got drunk. Stayed in my friend Michelle's room. Her roommate was gone." I pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of our mini fridge and used it to swallow the pills before flopping down onto my mattress and burying my head under my pillow.

Jana chuckled. "You need to eat something."

I groaned, my stomach doing a flip in protest of that idea. I didn't want to think about food.

"I'm serious." Jana rolled towards me. "Go get a shower, get dressed, and go down and have some breakfast. Make sure to have a glass of OJ. It'll help, trust me."

I didn't want to believe her. I wanted to just lie here until this feeling went away. Or until I died. At this point I'd take either one. But I couldn't lie around all day. I had to study for finals, which started Monday.

The water running over my body felt good, and surprisingly the food made me feel better, giving me some energy. I was just starting to feel human again, my econ book and notes open on my desk, when my phone dinged.

Mitch -- Cindy, are you okay?

I couldn't talk to her right now. I mean I'd climbed into bed with her. I remembered her holding me. And, oh my god. My phone tumbled out of my hand and onto the desk as the memory of the kiss blared to life inside my head.

I'd kissed her. I'd kissed Mitch. ^ding^

Mitch -- Please at least let me know you got back to your dorm.

What was I going to do? How the hell was I going to ever talk to her again? And the kiss, I remembered the way it felt. It had been amazing. No, no, I couldn't think about that. I'd been drunk. It hadn't meant anything. I was not interested in Mitch like that. I wasn't gay. I needed to breathe.

I turned my phone to silent, putting it face down on my desk.

I tried to focus, but my brain just wouldn't cooperate. My phone buzzed, and I couldn't help turning it over.

Mitch -- You know nothing happened last night.

Mitch -- I mean between us.

But that wasn't true. We may not have had sex, but something did happen. I picked up my phone.

Mitch -- Please talk to me.

I took a deep breath and typed something out.

Me -- I'm okay. Need time to think.

Mitch -- Okay. I'm here when you want to talk.

I turned back to my studies, and my phone stayed silent for the rest of the afternoon.

***

I let myself immerse in my studies, each exam looming up like a monster to slay, and I let each upcoming academic battle distract me from the war going on in my head about Michelle. She texted me after her College Algebra final on Tuesday.

Mitch -- Nailed it! And by that I mean, of course, I didn't totally bomb. All 'cause of you!

Mitch -- I miss you.

That brought a tear to my eye. I hadn't gone this long without talking to her since Coach had paired us together. And I missed her, too.

***

"So, Mitch says you're not talking to her? What happened?"

I dropped my gaze at Carrie's question. "Nothing. I just want to do well on my finals."