It was only supposed to be for a minute. Josie just wanted someone to pretend to be dating her long enough for the pushy guy in the too tight jeans to get the message. She couldn’t find Kingsley through the throng of drunken students on the dancefloor and she didn’t want a repeat of last time with J.P. and of course Howard wasn’t there (although that was probably a good thing) although Oregon was, looking bright eyed and helpful and easy to please.
‘It’ll only be for a minute,’ Josie explained, blushing. ‘You don’t have to actually-’
She hadn’t gotten any further because Oregon, who was rather drunker than she expected, threw an arm around her back for support and started kissing her with skill and enthusiasm.
‘Do you think he’s gone yet?’ Josie asks, a little breathlessly, coming up for air. He probably is: at some point Oregon’s hand found its way inside her top and Josie can’t think of a much firmer hint than that. Unless he was watching: they seemed to have drawn a small crowd.
‘I dunno,’ Oregon’s eyes sweep the dance floor lazily. With her fingertips she traces circles on the skin of Josie’s back in a way that makes it very difficult to remember that she has a boyfriend, or that nice girls from Cardiff don’t make out with other (supposedly) nice girls in public, or do anything really. ‘Better safe than sorry, yeah?’
Then Oregon is kissing her again and it’s been a while since someone kissed her who wasn’t trying to stop her talking (J.P.) or marking his territory (Dave). Kissing Oregon is... nice. Really, Josie thinks, Dave should be grateful she’s going to such lengths to discourage other men. She’s doing this for him.