To let my body find a way to find Anti-Dean appealing.
I don't.
It doesn't.
The jukebox belts out a peppy pop song. Two college girls squeal as they lock hands and dance. They're wearing matching designer dresses. One is hot pink. The other is red.
They're the kind of women Dean usually takes home.
Only he doesn't.
He hasn't.
He wants me.
Maybe it's the booze talking, but this is seeming like a better and better idea.
I say goodbye to Anti-Dean. Leave a five for the bartender. Slide my second-hand leather jacket over my shoulders.
His address is still in my cell. It's ten blocks away. Far enough for the cool air to temper the heat racing through me. Too close for logic to find a way into my brain.
There.
I walk the concrete path.
Knock.
"One minute." His voice booms from behind the door.
I shift my weight between my heels. I can't wait. I can't give myself any time to think up excuses.
This is my chance.
One night before everything goes to shit.
One night to soak up every ounce of bliss.
Carpe fucking diem.
Footsteps move closer.
The handle turns.
And there's Dean, standing in front of the door in nothing but a towel, completely nonplussed by me crashing his place.
"Wasn't expecting you, sunshine." He motions for me to come in.
I shut the door behind me.
He stares back at me.
All tall and broad and lickable.
I tell my brain to fuck off.
I wrap my arms around his waist.
I rise to my tiptoes.