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Butterflies are most definitely fluttering in Summer's stomach. This is it! Being invited to the biggest party of the year is a big deal, and she’s determined to make the most of it. She’s going to look back on this day in years to come, Summer muses, and remember it as the beginning of her time as a Popular Girl. She spends over two hours making sure her hair and outfit—a tight pink top and a new black skirt her mother bought to make up for a missed day of mother/daughter bonding—are perfect. Finally ready, she sits nervously checking her phone while her father drives her over to Brad's house. The fact that Jerry has managed to make two dubious comments on the length of her skirt since she got into the car isn't helping her nerves.
"Shut up, dad. Mom said it was fine!"
"Yes, well. Your mother and I don't always see eye to eye when it comes to fashion..."
Jerry trails off, evidently lost in his own thoughts, but the teen doesn't particularly care what’s preoccupying her father. She just wills the car to thread through early evening traffic faster, wondering, not for the first time, whether she wouldn't have been better off asking her grandfather to take her instead. At least the spaceship would have made better time, and the smalltalk on the way wouldn't have been half as excruciatingly boring, but knowing grandpa Rick he would have found some way to invite himself to the party and steal the show as usual. Summer can't have that. Tonight is going to be her night.
"Whatever. Just let me out here, I'll walk the rest of the way."
"Uhhh, are you sure? What if there are... ruffians?"
"I'll be fine , dad. It's the suburbs."
She assures him with a smile and a roll of her eyes before getting out of the car. She’s not exactly worried, and besides, she still has a can of pepper spray hidden in her hand bag in case of cat callers. Summer has no time for cat callers; she’s planned her time of arrival precisely so that her fellow partygoers should still be sober enough to remember her showing up but not so early as to seem too eager. As she walks up to the address Brad messaged her, blaring music can already be heard from within the reasonably-sized house. Using her phone's front camera to take one last look at herself, the redhead crosses over the lawn and rings the doorbell, nervous despite all her planning. It isn't Brad who answers the door—instead, it’s Tammy, a girl whose distinctive bob hairstyle and pink lip gloss Summer would recognise anywhere. They share a few classes but have never exchanged more than a couple of words here and there, something that doesn’t stop the brunette from immediately pulling her into a tight, overly familiar hug, which holds much more strength than Summer would have expected..
“Hiiiiii!”
Tammy beams as she releases her, causing Summer to wonder if she’s already drunk, judging by the half-empty red cup clutched in her hand. What seems more likely is that she’s purposefully putting on a show for some of the other partygoers who have now come into view behind her, draped across various items of furniture, drinking and talking. It looks as though Summer has managed to time her arrival exactly right. She waves at the room at large but immediately feels her arm being grabbed as Tammy drags her out of the living room and into the kitchen, where a large cooler of drinks sits waiting for the party to pick up, as it inevitably will. Tammy quickly lets go of her arm, spins around to face Summer, and rests her cup against her bottom lip, pouting coquettishly.
“Okay, full disclosure. Brad may have invited Ethan.”
Summer makes a valiant effort at keeping her expression even and unconcerned by this development. She should have expected as much—after all, her ex-boyfriend recently returned to school after a mysterious stomach bug landed him in the hospital for several months.
“I know things are still… fresh between you guys.”
The way Tammy puts emphasis on her words gives the impression that she’s trying extremely hard to sound apologetic but can’t quite suppress her gleeful interest in the latest gossip. Summer doesn’t particularly care. She knows rumours about their breakup must be spreading like wildfire by now; it’s been quite a while since they made it official, after all. If anything, it means popular people like Brad and Tammy suddenly know her name, which in turn means she isn’t spending her Friday night watching reruns of Frasier with her father while the rest of her family seems to have better things to do.
“You know, I heard Jocelyn went to visit him at the hospital. Can you believe that? That’s, like, so cheap!”
Tammy’s chattering away, clearly not requiring any sort of response from Summer, and busying herself pouring a decent amount of clear liquor into a fresh solo cup before mixing it with some sort of tropical syrup. She turns back with that characteristic bright smile still on her face and passes the redhead the drink.
“If you ask me you could do sooo much better, anyway.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Summer mentally scolds herself. This isn’t how to make a good impression! She isn’t being talkative, or fun, or anything, really. She would really appreciate it if Tammy could stop talking about her private life, sure, but she feels like a bit of a hypocrite for thinking that, as she’s often been in on fresh gossip about the very brunette in front of her. Her evasion tactic is to down a large gulp of the drink. It’s what her grandpa would do. Despite the sweetness, the taste immediately tells her that the ratio of alcohol to mixer is decisively weighted in the alcohol’s favour.
“And yeah. Jocelyn is cheap as hell. If that’s his type then good riddance to him!”
By the way Tammy’s face splits into a huge grin she knows she said the right thing. It’s radiant.
“That’s the spirit! You know what, Summer? I like you. I’m gonna help you hook up with someone tonight.”
Choosing to disregard the slight slur in her speech, Summer raises her eyebrows.
“Hook up with someone?”
“Yeah, silly! If you get with someone before he does that means you win the breakup! And we both know Jocelyn doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘slow’...”
At this, Summer can’t help but laugh, to which Tammy giggles along while topping up her own drink with straight vodka. It couldn’t do any harm, could it?
As the evening draws on, Summer more or less assumes that Tammy has completely forgotten about her earlier resolution. She wandered off with other, decidedly more popular students soon after their conversation, and Summer doesn’t really mind that much. Sure, Tammy’s fun to be around—and sure, maybe she even looks up to her a little bit—, but she’s also extremely high-maintenance. In Summer's experience, rumours almost always have at least a grain of truth to them, and the rumours about Tammy are plentiful and scandalous. The least scandalous ones are that she’s prone to drinking far too much at parties like these, meaning that whoever is in her immediate vicinity the moment she reaches her tipping point usually ends up having to take care of her until she loses consciousness, which is apparently quite the task. Jocelyn, the source from whom Summer heard this in the first place, described her as a ‘ticking time bomb’, something Summer found hilarious at the time but now has a decidedly different perspective on.
Her train of thought is interrupted by the subject of all this gossip stumbling into the room with a football player on either side of her, steadying her with strong arms. Having upgraded from a cup to a bottle, Tammy raises her beverage to the room at large and announces loudly:
“Y’all are so boring! Let's get this party st— let's have some funnn!”
She then proceeds to boss people around until a large group has assembled in the living room and her bottle is empty and can be placed in the centre of the circle. Summer stays at the sidelines, watching. She's spotted Ethan join the group and isn't exactly eager for any kind of interaction. If there's one thing she doesn't need it's an unlikely spin of the bottle forcing her to kiss her ex-boyfriend. As it turns out she isn't the only one not entirely enthused by Tammy's idea. Jessica enters the room and clears her throat pointedly, glaring at Brad, who makes a big show of leaving the circle and following her out of the room to placate her obvious annoyance. This causes much chagrin to his teammates and Summer can't help but laugh at their antics. Mid-laugh Tammy catches her eye, her face splitting into a sudden grin bordering on manic.
“Come on!” She beckons excitedly, “We need someone to make up numbers now!”
Speechless, Summer points to herself, raising her eyebrows and mouthing “Me?”
“Tch, yeah, silly! Don't be lame!”
Even though Tammy barely knows her she's absolutely hit her weak spot. The last thing she wants to be labelled as is ‘lame’, so she crosses the room and plonks herself down in the spot Brad just vacated, between two rather well built football players. She wouldn’t mind locking lips with either of them if the game happens to go that way, she supposes. The other participants seem mostly ambivalent towards her joining them, but Tammy claps her hands together excitedly. She seems to have appointed herself the role of host in Brad's absence, so she spins the bottle. The first couple it lands on are rather sheepish, only giving each other a quick peck on the lips. Some of the drunker guys boo obnoxiously, and Summer takes a large gulp of her drink. She's lost count by now. The next pair kisses a little more enthusiastically, receiving audible encouragement from Tammy. Summer quickly takes another large gulp. If she's going to make out with some random guy, and do it convincingly, she's going to need it. Every time the bottle spins past her, her heart palpably jumps in her chest, but she can feel the alcohol begin to affect her now. She’s nervous, apprehensive, yes, but excited too. She hasn't kissed anyone since Ethan. Maybe that means she'll be out of practice? But then, it's not like her life depends on this kiss; she just has to make it look convincing and then she'll be one step closer to being considered ‘cool’.
At the next spin, the bottle just so happens to land on the stand-in host herself. Tammy makes an appropriate song and dance out of it, throwing her hands up and screaming and almost spilling her drink over one of the guys next to her. Whoever ends up kissing her is in for something, that's for sure, Summer thinks, but she's watching her closely. Maybe she ought to react similarly? Maybe that's what people expect? What people like? She's so wrapped up in her inner dialogue she hardly notices that the bottle has stopped spinning once again and is now pointing directly at her .
There are some whoops and other noises of appreciation from some of the guys in the circle, accompanied by a widespread rolling of eyes by the other girls. It's all Summer can do to carefully put down her solo cup on the already quite stained carpet, mentally bracing herself. When she looks up to meet Tammy's gaze she realises the brunette is already looking at her intently. Her head is tilted to one side inquisitively, seeming entirely unfazed by the rest of the group's reactions, and her gaze is surprisingly clear and sharp for someone so noticeably drunk. She sits up and leans forward into the circle, balancing on only her fingertips. Summer hesitates, which only grants them more “encouragement”, so she too leans forward with a resigned sigh. At this Tammy makes an offended noise, but she's grinning now.
“Don't make it look like such a chore, Sum-sum!” she admonishes sweetly, “What's that gonna do to my self-esteem?”
“Absolutely nothing whatsoever?” Summer retorts drily before she's able to stop herself.
To her surprise, this earns a few laughs—most prominently a coy one from Tammy herself, who shakes her head. Her cheeks are flushed, whether from the alcohol or the situation it’s impossible to discern, her brown hair softly framing her face. It strikes Summer that maybe it isn't so bad, having to kiss Tammy. Better than one of those obnoxious guys currently cheering them on at least, she hurriedly adds to herself, only dimly aware it doesn't matter what she's thinking, and that unless grandpa Rick happens to be close by, there's no reason to worry someone else might be listening in on her thoughts.
“Shush, you.”
And then Tammy's index finger is on her lips and even though Summer can hear the other party goers’ cheers it's like they're separated from her by a thick wad of cotton wool because she’s kissing her—Tammy is kissing her —and nothing else matters even a little bit. Summer’s eyes flutter closed involuntarily and she leans into the kiss against her better judgement. She can’t help it. She’s dimly aware that her cheeks must be bright red because they feel like they’re on fire, but she doesn’t want to pull away until Tammy finally breaks the kiss, biting her lip coyly.
“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” she whispers, her words almost swallowed by the noise around them, all deafening whoops and wolf-whistles, which Summer only now becomes aware of.
“N-no, I guess not.”
As suddenly as it began, the moment’s over and Tammy plops herself back down in her spot, cross-legged and seemingly unchanged by anything that just happened. Summer has difficulty doing the same. She watches the game continue on at a steadily increasing volume, giving a perfunctory laugh or boo when it’s required of her, but anyone paying a little attention to her expression would probably be able to tell that her thoughts are elsewhere. Her heart is still pounding rapidly, demanding to be heard, impossible to ignore. With the pure physical reaction the kiss caused, not even Summer can lie to herself, even though she’s always considered herself to be pretty good at that. It runs in the family.
The buzz around the game soon dies down and people start to drift off in different directions, some in twos and others in little groups. Looking around self-consciously Summer gets up before she can become an awkward straggler and makes her way to the kitchen to fill up her drink. It’s packed, of course. It’s not like this is Summer’s first party; she knows the kitchen is where most people always seem to gravitate towards. With her thoughts as muddled as they are right now, interacting with a bunch of new acquaintances is hardly something she feels like doing, but it looks like going in, getting a drink and extracting herself just as quickly isn’t an option. A guy leaning in the door frame helpfully informs Summer that there’s another cooler out in the garage with some cans of beer and cider, so she heads in the direction he indicates instead of threading her way through the gaggle of intoxicated teens in the kitchen.
To her delight the garage is deserted and the air surprisingly cool. She exhales slowly under the dim lights and, after retrieving a cold can of cider, leans against a cluttered workbench. This isn’t how she had expected the night to go at all. She doesn’t feel upset, just muddled, like there’s a lot she’s going to have to work through. Perhaps she wouldn’t have minded if all of this had happened away from prying eyes, she muses.
Just as she cracks open the can and takes her first sip, the door opens and none other than Tammy stumbles into the garage.
“Sum-sum!”
“Tammy. Hey.”
Summer hears herself and she can’t tell if she sounds obviously nervous or weirdly formal, can’t tell which would be worse. She manages to conjure a smile onto her features at least, but it’s nothing next to the radiance that is the grin on Tammy’s face.
“We really showed them, huh?” Tammy chirps, leaning against the bench beside her and elbowing her gently in the ribs as though they’re old friends.
“Uh huh,” Summer agrees, and then, knowing that a little more than that is probably expected of her, adds: “I mean, they were cheering pretty loudly.”
The brunette looks at her, and Summer notices two things for the first time. One is that Tammy is slightly shorter than her, as she’s managed to lose the heels she’d been wearing at some point throughout this drunken evening. The other is that she has the faintest of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, like distant constellations adorning her fair skin. It’s like they’ve been looking at each other like this for a long time, but Summer can’t be sure with her vision blurred around the edges and no scope of how late—or early—it might be by now.
“I’ll say,” Tammy nods, tiny freckles shifting as he crinkles her nose in the kind of amusement that can only be rooted in either alcohol or weed, “And they don’t even know what a good kisser you are.”
Summer blinks, gobsmacked, made speechless not for the first time that evening.
“Don’t look so surprised, Sum-sum…”
Her movements slow but purposeful, Tammy pushes herself off the workbench they’re both leaning against and moves to stand in front of Summer, looking up at her with a twinkle in her eyes.
“But I am surprised,” Summer says truthfully, stupidly, alcohol making her words heavy and ungainly.
Tammy giggles and leans forward ever so slightly before reaching out with one slim finger to trace the outline of Summer jaw, from just below her ear to her chin. At least this doesn’t take her by surprise, as Tammy’s movements are thankfully slow and deliberate. Without conscious thought, Summer's arms snake around the shorter girl's waist to rest lightly on her lower back. This causes Tammy to purr and lean into her even further, her compact but curvy frame pressed up against Summer's, which she's always considered to be too lanky and never feminine enough, by anyone's definition.
“I think we deserve a do-over, don't you? Without the whole fucking peanut gallery.”
Even the way Tammy swears sounds sugary sweet, and flirty somehow, and before Summer can let any of her predictable worries and misgivings flood in she finds herself leaning down and pressing her lips to Tammy's.
This time there's no performance anxiety. This time she can feel Tammy smile against her mouth. This time Summer kisses her with the force of all the doubts she's been battling with throughout the evening, kisses her until she's breathless, until they both have to break away for air. But Tammy is far from done. She has to stand on tiptoes, barefoot on the garage tiles, to unite their lips again. Only now does her sweet tongue slip from between her lips to mingle with Summer's. Maybe her own movements are inexperienced, or clumsy from the alcohol, or any number of damnable things, but for the first time that evening Summer doesn't care. She's too lost in the moment, pulling the shorter girl closer with her arms around her waist, letting her own tongue explore.
Despite everything she's a little embarrassed when a soft sigh escapes her, but again Tammy just smiles into her kiss. Perhaps there's even a little smugness to it as she presses Summer up against the workbench more forcefully. Another sigh—or is it a moan?—and Summer has no doubt she must be as red as her hair by now.
Suddenly and with surprising strength Tammy hoists the much taller girl up onto the workbench, small hands coming to rest on her thighs. There she stands between Summer's parted legs, looking like fucking royalty as she bites her lip. It's all the redhead can do to watch her movements. She looks on, utterly hypnotised, as Tammy traces the hem of her much-debated skirt, keeping her own eyes fixed on Summer's expression all the while. It's clear she wants to illicit some sort of reaction, wants to know what kind of effect she's having on her.
The truth is: Summer feels like her whole body has been set alight. Tammy's touch is so soft, so delicate, so unlike any guy she’s ever been with. She slips her hand under the redhead's skirt, pushes the flimsy fabric up, and grins when her panties are revealed. Suddenly Summer feels self-conscious about the pattern—little pink stars and moons—but not self-conscious enough to do or say anything that might stop this bizarre turn of events. Tammy places her fingertip assertively in the centre of her pubic mound, over the material, then moves it downward tantalisingly slowly.
An intake of breath is all Summer can manage; words are completely out of the question right now. Tammy’s still looking up at her placatingly, like she’s really trying to get a reaction out of her. There’s a coy little grin plastered across her cherubic features, but her eyes look earnest. Summer can’t tell if that’s a new thing, or if they’ve always looked like that and she’s just never paid any attention.
“Is this okay?” she asks, and even though she’s still grinning the teasing undertone has left her voice.
All Summer can do is swallow thickly and nod.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It’s like she’s spoken a magic word. With swift movements Tammy hooks two fingers into the sides of Summer’s panties, pulls them down and licks her lips. Her finger traces the same path once again, but without the stupid patterned fabric in the way her touch is even more electrifying. It travels from light, sensitive skin through the modest tuft of ginger pubic hair until finally dipping in between the folds of her labia. Again, Tammy’s eyes dart upwards to catch the little gasp Summer lets out, but this time they don’t linger for long before returning to the object of her attention, like she’s a woman on a mission.
As her fingers probe deeper, Summer finally relaxes her thighs. Up to this moment they’ve been tense and stiff on the top of the workbench; now she allows them to open a little wider, even though a part of her still feels nervous about it. She isn’t sure why, as she’s undeniably enjoying everything that’s happening right now, but something about it still makes her uneasy. She's vulnerable, maybe that’s what it is. But then—isn’t that the point of going to a house party and getting drunk with a bunch of people more popular than you? Even showing up to this place was putting herself in a vulnerable position. Everything that’s happened since their game of spin the bottle has been bizarre, yes, but it’s not like she isn’t in control.
“Not boring you, am I?” Tammy asks, evidently picking up on the fact that Summer’s mind is wandering.
She doesn’t wait for a response from the redhead, instead twisting her fingers in a way that makes Summer’s knees turn to jelly. She gasps, but Tammy doesn’t grant her a moment’s respite. It’s clear she’s done giving Summer time to acclimate. Her fingers move nimbly, two of them now probing deeply, stretching her, while the thumb of her other hand has found the sweet spot just above Summer’s entrance which no guy she’s been with has ever bothered to pay too much attention to. Summer bites her lip as a long sigh escapes her.
“You like that?” the brunette inquires innocently, batting her eyelashes from between her legs.
Summer just nods again, her teeth still digging into her lower lip. Tammy smirks, moving her thumb in slow circles. It’s like she knows exactly what Summer does to herself sometimes in the shower—when the sounds she makes are swallowed up by the sound of rushing water and there’s no threat of her stupid little brother barging in on her unannounced—except she’s doing it better .
“You do?” she nudges pointedly. Tammy’s tongue darts out from between her lips, wetting them slightly.
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I do.” Summer manages a breathless response.
Even though—or perhaps because—her voice sounds shaky, it seems to please Tammy. She smiles, the bridge of her nose wrinkling in delight before she says: “Good. Then let’s see how you like this.”
Summer barely has time to catch her breath before Tammy’s sweet tongue darts out from between her lips and finds her clit. It’s like lightning passes through her entire body. Finally she has no time to second-guess, to worry about what she’s doing or what anyone else thinks. Her hips buck forward of her own accord and Tammy lets out a muffled sigh, hands settling onto the underside of Summer’s thighs, caressing the soft skin there.
It’s with skilled finesse that Tammy’s tongue traces her folds, leaving a powerful, all-consuming heat in its wake. Summer feels two of her fingers resume their positions, feels them move in and out of her tight entrance which by now is wet enough to leave a trace on the workbench’s surface. She doesn’t care, now. She can’t even see it because her eyes are fluttering closed, her head is tilting back as she gives in to the overwhelming sensation. Tammy’s tongue changes its speed, slowing down to an excruciating pace, and a long, lustful moan is drawn out of Summer’s throat. She doesn’t even care about that, but she’s able to snap out of her daze sufficiently to glance down and catch Tammy’s eye. Her cheeks are flushed now, a delicate pink that suits her complexion, and her eyes are heavy lidded. She looks so seductive Summer can feel herself lose her grip a little. It’s just so unbelievable that someone like Tammy—someone so popular, so well-liked, so talked about—has her face between her thighs.
Without thinking she reaches out to run a hand through Tammy’s short brown hair. It’s ruffled already after a night of drinking and flirting with guys and stumbling all around Brad’s parent’s huge house with and without heels, but Summer takes a strange delight in mussing it up more. Tammy seems to enjoy it because her eyes close, long lashes throwing pretty shadows across her high cheekbones. Then she moans against Summers clit and she can feel it reverberate through her. She’s really just run her fingers through Tammy’s hair, but now she feels herself holding on tight as her hips buck forward, out of her control as one hot flush after another jerks through her.
Then her head falls back on her shoulders again and the loudest moan yet is drawn from her as her back arches. All the bundled up tension which Tammy has been so expertly building with her nimble tongue and by now slick fingers is finally released. It feels earth-shattering. Summer sees stars for a moment and finds herself gasping for air.
When she glances back down at Tammy her vision still seems a little blurry, and she feels light-headed at best, but one last slow, purposeful lick still coaxes another soft moan out of her before the brunette sits up on her haunches and meets her gaze. She looks extremely pleased with herself, a smug Cheshire cat grin on her wet lips.
She wipes them carelessly with the back of her hand and asks: “How was that, princess?”
Blinking, Summer stares down at her where she’s still sitting between her legs like there’s nowhere she’d rather be. She pulls up her panties, trying not to think about how wet they’ll probably get, and adjusts her skirt. Maybe her dad was right, maybe it is too short, she thinks absently, but none of that really seems like a concern right now. Even the realisation that literally anyone from the party could have walked in on them at any point during the last forty-five minutes fails to make any kind of impression. It all seems so unimportant when her body is still humming with that hot, unfamiliar energy and her mind is in that comfortable post-orgasm haze.
“That was… wow, Tammy. I didn’t know you, uh... I mean, wow.”
Okay, so maybe being less anxious doesn’t automatically make her less tongue-tied to boot, but it feels like a step in the right direction, anyway. Summer gives Tammy’s shoulder a squeeze and when she gets up Summer hops down from the workbench, noting that she’s still more than a little tipsy. It feels much more natural this time around when her arms snake around Tammy’s waist and pull her close.
“I guess you did say you were gonna help me hook up with someone…”
Tammy giggles delightedly. “Totally! When I make a promise, I deliver.”
“Okay, well…” Summer feels her cheeks start to burn again, but pushes through it. It hardly matters now. “Would you let me, like, return the favour?”
Much to Summer’s delight, it’s now Tammy’s turn to blush. She does so gracefully and without any visible embarrassment apart from the blush itself and nods before fishing her smartphone out of her pocket.
“Give me your number. I’ll text you when I’m free, yeah?”
Summer’s taken aback. Up until now she had been under the assumption that anything that could happen between them would happen tonight and never spoken about from that point forward. The idea of making plans with Tammy is unexpected, and what’s even more unexpected is the sudden, joyous flutter of something the idea triggers somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She taps her number in and smiles down at Tammy as she hands back her phone.
“Like a date?”
Sober Summer would be kicking herself for asking that question, and so would pre-climax Summer, most likely. Current, tipsy, buzzing Summer—Summer whose heart is still racing, Summer who can still feel the impression of Tammy’s tongue probing her most sensitive places—doesn’t feel so bad about it. She wants to know.
“You know what?” Tammy cocks her head to one side, tousled hair shifting around her flushed features as she grins slyly, “Fuck it. Why not? It’ll give people something worth gossiping about.”