His name. It rhymed with bark and tree, something about a forest and smelt like a river in summer. Well, that’s what I thought when he talked to me anyways, and I knew that I should focus on what he was saying, so that I could try and remember.
Not thinking about his words probably made me look like an idiot, a dumb drunk girl. But the more he talked, and I looked at his teeth that matched the falling snow and lips that were redder than the brake lights of cars that passed us, I wondered what it would be like to kiss them, and as I thought about his breath, I could feel the snow melting under my sweater and sliding down my shoulders, trickling down the small of my back and into my underwear. My ass crack was freezing, and that’s what I thought of as he held my hand as we looked at a house with pulsating lights at two hundred beats per minute. So many lights, my eyes watered and he might have thought that I was crying because he pulled back his hand. Too eagerly, I grabbed it back and mistakenly hit him with my bottle of rum, and he smiled and took a swig and I did the same, our lips touching as the mechanical Santa and his reindeer danced along with a song that we couldn’t quite hear over the sound of our pulsating hearts.