Comments are welcome. All characters are fictional and cannot help themselves from being what they are.
* * *
The bottle of beer Hannah had been nursing was resting on her lap, on the hem of her short pleated skirt. The beer was warm by now and still only half-empty. Long blue swirls of hair, a wig, fell over her shoulders, reminding her that she was still in costume.
Andrew had on an olive green cardigan over a white V-neck tee, half ironic and half preening his intellectual plumage. He didn't know art or books nearly as well as he pretended, but he kept up well enough. Anyway, he obviously liked pop culture and was probably better with electronic devices than he realized.
He was cute, with a strong, stubbly jaw, wavy golden blond hair and a hint of old school cologne over a lean, hard frame. Picking the label off the beer and nodding absently at whatever he was talking about, Hannah found herself thinking:
He's nice.
She noticed she wasn't angry anymore.
The conversation had drifted far away from her costume and the soon-to-be-a-major-motion-picture science-fantasy series she'd taken it from. That had been Andrew's pretext to get her up to his room: to look at his complete collection of first editions, and see the trailer in HD. Then they talked about films, books, and books turned into films. And music, and technology.
He'd played a mellow after-party mix on his speakers across the room using a connection from his phone. Then he showed off an app that could turn on and off the bright overhead light, and the soft, low key light on his crowded bedside table. Naturally...the overhead light went off, and the warm golden glow of the light on the bedside table picked out golden flecks in his dark stubble.
They were sitting on his bed (where else, the floor?), just talking, and a smirk played at Hannah's lips as she realized she wasn't angry anymore. Her beer was warm and her boyfriend had ditched her, but she was with a cute guy who was kind of interesting, and she felt all right.
When the cute girl beside him on his bed smiled at his stupid joke, he didn't hesitate. He kissed her quickly, a peck on the lips, and got up before she could protest. "I'm going to grab a couple more beers for us, yeah? Back in a minute."
Hannah pulled her phone off a hook on her utility belt. (Perfect costume, right? She was strongly considering just wearing the utility belt from now on.) Ben hadn't called or texted. He'd been a fucking bastard, and she wasn't going to contact him first. He could figure out what he wanted on his own.
She held the phone up and took a selfie, smirking up at the camera. No fake looks, no stupid pose; like looking in the mirror, it was face she kept back for pictures only she would see.
Ben was making her wait and she was tired of it.
Either way, she'd need to get out of here-just
leave
—soon. Hannah suspected she should have left already, but another beer sounded nice, and she liked talking to Andrew. Then again, she could leave, go downstairs, talk to Andrew
and
have another beer, but...
But what?
she asked herself.
But: she was enjoying the quiet. The party was a distant thrum of muted bass beneath the streaming music, the cracked door and all the creaky wood architecture between Hannah and the party below.
But: Ben hadn't bothered to apologize yet. Either he would or he wouldn't, and it wasn't fair for him to abandon her at a party and expect her to sit in a corner and be miserable.
But: Andrew's room was warm and comfortable, filled with books on shelves and prints on the walls, with a laptop glowing in the corner, music playing, soft ambient light and another beer on its way.
Hannah unbuckled her utility belt and slung it over a bedpost beside her, then took off her blue wig and put it on top of the same bed post. She shook out her dirty blonde hair with her fingers, unbuttoned her vest and crawled up onto the bed to lay back on the pillow—knee high leather boots and all.
Andrew tapped on the door with an unopened bottle of beer. "Here we are—"
His voice stopped short as he took a moment to appreciate what he saw: a cute woman laying on his bed in knee high leather boots, her ankles crossed. While her pleated skirt rode up high on his comforter, revealing a fair amount of thigh below, the hip still slung so low that he could still see a lot of midriff between the skirt and the lower part of the white A-shirt she had on underneath the now-open vest.
"Beer?" Andrew asked, offering it to her with a bottle opener. He came around to the side of the bed as he opened one for himself.
"Thanks. Would you mind opening it for me?" Hannah said, propping herself up on one elbow. She turned onto her side, and her skirt draped itself over her hips. Andrew couldn't help but realize he could have seen up her skirt if she'd done that when he was standing by the door.
Andrew gave her the open beer, then put the other one on the floor beside the bed.
Hannah's pouty lips circled around the neck of the bottle. Looking him in the eye, she took a swig. "Ah, thanks. Drink?"
"Thanks." He took a drink. "So. Where were we?"
Hannah smiled. "Something about your favorite comic book action movie."
"No..." Andrew said. "I mean, yes, obviously three perfect movies is a hell of a lot more important than cranking out as many product placements as you can, but I meant—"
He didn't hesitate. He moved in, and found her soft lips, with a light scent of cocoa butter just lingering behind the taste of the import beer, meeting his own. She gasped slightly as she committed, surprised as much at her reciprocation as at his sudden kiss.
Then came a second kiss and a third. Her lips parted and he cocked his head to let his tongue dart in.
Hannah was the first to break the embrace. Andrew opened his eyes and saw hers closed in front of him. She touched her forehead to his and put her hand on his shoulder. "Andrew," she said. "Thanks for waiting with me but...I should go."
Admiring her lying beside him, Andrew kissed her again. His hand moved up to cup her left breast beneath her costume vest. Her eyes fluttered, but she still kissed him back. Then, very naturally, her hand fell to his waist. They kissed again. Hannah's hand slid to his crotch, putting her palm up against the front of his jeans. He was hard already.
An electromagnetic pulse burned out every system in Andrew's head. All he could do was crane his neck to kiss her again and again as she pulled away, and her palm pushed back against his chest.
"I'm sorry," said Hannah. "I can't do this. I'm with someone."
In the distant real world, she took a swig of beer, gathered her things and walked out the door.
* * *
"It's just a fantasy," said Ben. "I trust you."
* * *
Hannah opened her eyes, took the bottle between her and Andrew and gulped a healthy swig of beer.
"I have a boyfriend," she said again. "He's probably downstairs."
"He's not," said Andrew. He took a drink of the beer and set it on the night stand. "Remember..." Andrew kissed Hannah again. "I saw him walk out. He wasn't downstairs when I went and got the beer."
Hannah bit her lip. "I should wait for him."
