Afterwards, getting off his bed to wipe the cum from my chest, I said, “Um, so I have a big crush on you, just an FYI.”
“You have no filter,” he said. We kissed and cleaned ourselves off.
We had met up for drinks earlier in the evening at Daddy’s, a couple blocks from his house. We talked about our weekends and then I ranted about trash cans. There was a DJ playing music. A song was played that I really liked, that was really familiar, but I couldn’t identify it, had no clue who sang it. Shazam failed me, unable to identify it over bar chatter. Ask the DJ, he said. And out of some weird shame of not being as musically knowledgable as I want to be, I said I couldn’t. He, because he is a really cool dude that is that worthy of having a crush on, went and asked the DJ for me.
“Number One Dance Song in Heaven” by Sparks.
Back at his house, we drank vodka over his kitchen table and listened to music. Eventually he leaned over the table and kissed me, at which point we made our way to that earlier referenced bed.