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Cat weaved her way between bodies and beanbags to stand before the group amassed in the Lofts lounge room. Her hair was escaping its bands, her cheeks flushing a shade Jean recognised as a sign the apartment would smell like a grease trap tomorrow. Her left hand gripped the neck of a beer bottle precariously as she pretended to use it as microphone.
“Song!” Chorused the group.
She made a peace sign with her right hand as she took a swig, getting the required answer of “two words!” before turning her extended fingers against her lips and running her tongue between them with a wink towards Laila.
“Catalina!” Cody scolded, covering Jab’s eyes in mock horror. “Not in front of the children!”
Cat laughed at them and turned a wicked look on Jean and motioned for him to come closer. He met her gaze with an amused one of his own but did not budge from his position against the kitchen doorframe. Under the pressure of eight enthusiastic floozies though, it did not take long for him to feel his treacherous feet carrying him to her side.
She smiled broadly and looked back at the group, already giggling to herself as she began pointing her hands vigorously at Jean’s shoulders and chest.
“Shirt!” Min tried. Cat shook her head.
“Titties!” yelled Laila, earning herself dagger eyes from Jean.
“Blue!” Jeremy called, and Cat clapped her hands excitedly. Jeremy was the reason he wore the colour at all, Jean thought, of course it would be him to guess correctly.
Cat waved her arms around Jean in a way that indicated all of him. The group guessed (“man mountain!”, “scowling Frenchman!”, “hottie!”) with a great degree of cackling from Cat, until Jean glowered at her and she pointed to the denim hanging loosely on his thighs.
“Jean!” At least three voices called at once.
Cat nodded and gave a thumbs up, discarding her now empty beer bottle and taking possession of the pillow that had rested across Pat and Ananya’s laps. She stuffed it under her faded Bikini Kill t-shirt, then proceeded to birth the cushion and cradle it, rocking her arms a little too aggressively side to side.
“Baby!” came the group answer, seemingly in unison and in tune.
Jean looked around bewildered. Cat spun in a circle with arms outstretched as “LA” rang out raucously, then dragged Laila to her feet, running her hands down her girlfriend’s waist and hips as “lady” sounded around the room.
It devolved from there, and in a matter of seconds charades was all but forgotten, the friends leaning against whoever was closest, heads thrown back as they sang. By the time the chorus hit, Jean realised that yes, he did know this song after all. He was tempted to tell Cat off for her roundabout clues (they surely would’ve guessed sooner had she simply acted “Tiny Dancer” directly) but then Jeremy was bringing his chest to rest against Jean’s, Jeremy was wrapping his arms around Jean’s waist, Jeremy was swaying and smiling up at him and singing sweetly about being laid down in sheets of linen.
Xavier pulled a copy of “Almost Famous” from the newly restocked DVD rack and started loading it up, drinks were refilled and blankets gathered as the impromptu choir continued through the rest of the song. Laila hit the lights and Jean slid into the nearest armchair, pulling a gasping Jeremy onto his lap as he went. Jean nibbled the side of Jeremy’s neck as the opening credits rolled, his captain lolling his head back against Jean’s shoulder and spreading his legs wider without thought or hesitation. Jeremy grabbed the hand Jean had planted on the armrest and moved it to his thigh. Perhaps he could forgive Cat for her inefficiency, Jean thought, just this once.