-Killer Queen by Queen-

Denise pressed her lips together, rubbing in her lip gloss as she stared at her reflection in the sun visor mirror. It was just about nine o'clock, and she was about to head out to Nate's RV. Content with her glossed lips, she shut the visor and pulled open the curtains off the windshield window to see outside.

Mark had installed curtains on all the windows for when they're stationary.

Speaking of Mark, that's who Denise was looking out for. He had went out for a smoke break - fortunately.

Denise had decided it was better to leave when he wasn't around, to avoid getting any lip.

Closing the windshield curtain, she then pulled back the curtain of the passenger seat window.

Not seeing him anywhere, she opens the door and climbs out. After shutting it quietly, she quickly made her way over to Nate's RV.

Denise knocks on the door and checks her surroundings one last time to make sure Mark isn't around.

Luckily it didn't take long for Nate to answer.

When he opened the door and saw her, his face lit up.

"Hey, I didn't think you were coming. You didn't give me a specific time."

"And you didn't ask," she said in a sultry tone.

Nate smirks, "touche."

"You gonna let me in or what?" she placed a hand on her hip.

Nate takes a moment to look her up and down.

She was wearing a white thin long sleeve crop top, dark blue jeans, her classic vans, and waist beads that complimented her curvaceousness.

"Come in," he stepped to the side.

"Thank you," Denise climbs the stairs, brushing past him.

"Whoa," Denise was taken aback by his RV.

She thought it was huge on the outside by it was even bigger on the inside.

It had almost everything that Mark built but on a much larger scale and a lot more space. There was a full bedroom in the back, a full couch with a widescreen TV, a full kitchen with a dining room table, and more than what one person needed for sure.

"Nice, huh?" Nate stood closely behind her.

Denise whirls around, taking a small step back, "yeah, very." She crosses her arms over her chest, "I'm a little thirsty."

"Oh, okay," Nate makes his way to the fridge. "I got beer."

She laughs, causing him to turn around with a questioning look.

"I'm gonna need something a lot stronger than a beer."

Catching her drift, the corner of Nate's mouth curved into a smirk.

A bottle of Bourbon was all he had, and that was good enough for Denise, who was in a desperate need to slip away for a few hours.

Nate sat beside Denise on the couch, watching her pour herself a second glass of Bourbon. He watched silently, only thinking dirty thoughts as he sipped on his own drink.

"You got any music?" Denise asked, keeping the bottle of Bourbon in one hand as she used the other to sip from her glass.

"Music?" Nate's eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," she replied in a sarcastic tone. "Music, tunes, jams, you know . . . "

"Right, right," he shuffled around just to get his phone out of his pocket. "What kind of music do you like?"

"I can get down to anything, really," she shrugged.

"Anything?"

"Anything," Denise gulped down her glass.

While scrolling, Nate glanced at her and grinned.

Denise lets out a small burp and places the cup on the floor near her feet while keeping the bottle, "where's the music, Nate?"

"Okay, okay, okay," Nate scrolls through his music faster. "How about this?"

He pushes a music selection and turns up his phone.

The moment Denise heard the beat of the song, she stood to her feet in excitement, "Queen? Oh my God, I love Queen. Freddie Mercury is not a legend, he is the legend."

"He is isn't he?" Nate started to get up. He stopped when Denise begins to sway her hips as she sang the song:

"She keeps her Moet et Chandon, in her pretty cabinet. 'Let them eat cake', she says just like Marie Antoinette. A built-in remedy for Khrushchev and Kennedy. At anytime an invitation, you can't decline."

Nate sits back, tosses his phone down, and contently watched as he sipped on his drink.

Denise rolled her hips into a circle as she sang the chorus, "she's a Killer Queen. Gunpowder, gelatine. Dynamite with a laser beam. Guaranteed to blow your mind, anytime."

Amid Nate enjoying the show, Denise pulled him up by the shirt, "are you just going to sit there?"

"I was enjoying the show."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes and turned, so her back was against his chest, "dance with me."

Like most of the guys she came in contact with, Nate couldn't resist her. He wasn't a dancer, but that didn't stop him from trying. Lucky for him, she didn't mind teaching him how to at least move with her. It wasn't long before they were both drinking out of the bottle of Bourbon as they grind against each other.

Eventually, they were both drunk and headbanging to the greatest hits in Classic Rock.

From the Beatles, Led Zepplin, Lynrd Skynyrd, Guns & Roses, AC/DC, and more.

They spent the next few hours laughing, dancing, doing air guitar, and pretend crowd surfing.

After hours of moshing, their high started going down.

They ended their rock n' roll party on the floor beside the couch.

With her eyes closed, Denise hummed to the song softly playing on Nate's phone: Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden.

Nate looked down at her, "so?"

"Hm?" Denise opened her eyes to look up at him.

"Does he know you're here?"

"Who? Mark?" she arched an eyebrow.

"Is that his name?"

Denise laughs harder than she intended to.

"Does he know I'm here?" she let out an amused sigh, "it's not his business about where I go. I told you, he's just a guy I met."

"Hm," Nate placed his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Turning on her stomach, Denise moves upward and lays on her side, so they're face to face.

"Why do you care so much about Mark?" she propped her head up with her hand.

Nate lays on his side, doing the same, "I don't. I'm just making sure I'm not wrong for wanting to kiss you."

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I look in the mirror every morning and see these lips. You are not wrong for wanting to kiss them," Denise made him laugh. "In fact, if you didn't want to, I'd be very concerned."

"Wow, are you always this cocky, or is that the Bourbon?"

"Honestly?" she pretended to look up in thought. "A lot of both."

"Well," Nate giggled, "gotta admit, I love a girl with confidence."

"You sir, have excellent taste," Denise gazed into his eyes.

He gazed back into hers, smirking.

"So, can I?"

"Can you what?" she asked.

"Kiss you."

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Nate, as fun as that sounds. I should probably get going."

To his dismay, she stood up.

Denise might have been drunk, but she was not wasted. She would have to hit rock bottom to let him into her pants. Yeah, she's hit rock bottom a lot of times with a lot of guys, but tonight was not one of those nights.

"Oh come on," Nate took ahold of her wrist and pulled her back. "Just one kiss. Don't be such a tease."

"I'm not teasing," she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm saving you."

"From who? Mark?"

"No," she stood close to him, so they were face to face. "Me."

"You?" Nate scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious," Denise wrapped her arms around his neck, sticking her body close to his.

Immediately she could feel the excitement he had been trying to hide since the moment she got there.

"Because if I kissed you, Nate, even just one time - you'd want to kiss me again and do more from there."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Nate tries to wrap his arms around her waist, but she pulls away.

"Thanks for the night," she sends him a wink. "I needed this."

Disappointed, Nate shook his head, watching her go.

When Denise was sober, she could pick-pocket anyone with ease and sneak into a Toni Braxton concert like it was nothing. But when she was intoxicated, everything that was smooth about her went right out the window.

She didn't even think about trying to sneak into the van. Denise whipped that slide door open like she was Big Foot. Climbing inside, she pulled the door closed with a slam!

Denise turned around to look at the bed where she assumed Mark would be sleeping.

But he wasn't there.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked around to find Mark sitting in the front seat behind the wheel. She would have thought he was sleeping if it wasn't for him, staring at her through the rearview mirror.

Denise scoffed in annoyance, "don't you sleep?"

"No, actually," Mark stood up, "I don't."

"Well, I do," Denise turned toward the bed.

"You could have told me you were going to hang out with him," Mark's words made her stop.

She slowly turned around, glaring, "excuse me?"

"And it's not what you're thinking," Mark spoke calmly and sincerely. "You can hang out with whoever you want."

"Yeah, I know that," Denise crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't need you to tell me that," she snapped.

"I don't want to argue -"

"And I'm not going to argue," she shrugged. "I'm drunk, and I don't think you're ready to see the drunk me pissed. She's even bitchier."

Mark scoffed in disbelief as she kicked off her shoes and started unbuttoning her jeans.

"Wha - what are you - why are you taking off your pants?" he reverted his eyes.

"Because I can't sleep with pants on its uncomfortable," Denise tossed her jeans on the floor. "Is that too weird for you? Haven't you never seen a girl in her underwear before?"

"That's not the point," Mark kept his gaze away from her.

"Of course it isn't," Denise rolled her eyes, sliding under the covers.

"What if something had happened to you?" Mark asked her. "Huh? You don't know that guy."

"And neither do you," Denise fluffed her pillow.

Mark turned his head to look at her, "maybe, but I know guys like him. They're sketchy, they're gross -"

"Blah, blah, blah," Denise laid her head down. "Whatever."

"If I wasn't smart enough to put two and two together, I would have never known you were with him. You just got dunk with a stranger. What if he had -"

"Alright," Denise hit her breaking point. She whipped the covers off of her and got out of the bed. "You are not my friend, you're not my boyfriend and you sure as hell aren't my father. Okay? So if I want to go and get drunk with a stranger!" she yelled.

"I'm going to get drunk with a stranger! If you haven't figured it out, I can take care of myself! I always have, I always will! You can think whatever you want, I don't give a shit about your opinion."

"If you don't care, then why'd you sneak out?" Mark asked.

"What?" she squinted.

"If you don't care like you said you don't, why did you wait for me to leave? Huh? Why didn't you tell me you were going to hang out with him earlier today?"

Denise went mute, grimacing.

"People who don't care don't have to sneak around, Denise."

"You know what!?" she walked up to him. He was so tall, she was anything but intimidating.

"What?" Mark asked her unmoved. "Are you going to smash in my windows? Take my keys and throw them into the abyss? It doesn't change that what you did was stupid, irresponsible, and dangerous."

When it came to getting told off by a man, Denise was used to being treated as an object. The man she dealt with were usually possessive. They all had a mindset that she there's and no one else's.

Yet, here was Mark. He wasn't expressing dominance or possessiveness. Mark was speaking truth and honesty. It was as if he actually cared about Denise and her wellbeing, and she didn't understand why he cared or why he was pretending too.

Earlier in the day, when he saw her talking to Nate, any other guy would have told her off for even speaking to him.

But Mark didn't.

He asked her questions, and when she gave him short responses, he respected her privacy and didn't drill her.

Even now, she was standing in front of him in only her panties and t-shirt. Yet, he reverted his eyes. He had the opportunity to take a peek, and he didn't.

He was caring, he was nice, and he was respectful.

All three were foreign to Denise and pissed her off. It made her angry and confused. Being drunk didn't help very much, either.

"You know what?" Denise chuckled wearily. "I'm too drunk to deal with this. So, screw you and goodnight."

Mark bit his tongue, watching her climb back into bed. There was no reason to try and talk it out, considering how drunk she was. Even if she was sober, Mark had a feeling the conversation still wouldn't have gone well.

Making sure his cigarettes were in his pocket, he sighed, "I'm going for a smoke."

"I didn't ask," Denise snapped, burying herself under the covers.

Mark scoffed, sliding open the door and stepping out. With a shake of his head, he closed the door and began taking a walk as he lit a cigarette.