Kiss and Break Up

by Ella Fields

  Then he was gone, a large shadow lost in a sea of color.

  Wet trickled down my cheek. I swiped it away, trying to wrangle the emotions that wanted to send me hurrying after him.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t make sense of anything, and the longer I stood there, my thoughts swirling and my heart thrashing, the more confused, scared, and isolated I felt.

  Looking around the room, I saw Byron over by the tables of finger foods. I gathered my skirts in my hand, and some courage, and walked over there quickly so as not to lose him again.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping his arm. “Way to just leave me outside.” I laughed, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal when it kind of was.

  He took a moment to answer, and when he did, his eyes fell angry and hard on my face. “You didn’t seem to need me.”

  “What?”

  He sighed, adjusting the light blue jacket of his suit. “When did you kiss him?”

  My mouth opened and shut. I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t spit out the truth. “Not since we started dating.” The urge to admit that wasn’t exactly true tugged at my vocal cords, though I knew admitting so would just cause more trouble. Fear, so much fear, swelled within. Unshakable in its control. I liked Byron. I liked Dash. I hated this indecisive game we’d wound up being players in.

  A sharp brow rose as he studied my face. “I want to believe you.”

  “So believe me.” I straightened my shoulders. “I can’t make you, but I didn’t invite him here. I had no idea he’d show up the way he did.”

  “Yeah? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He flicked a hand, forcing a smile to someone behind me, then gave his attention back to me, his voice rough and low. “That means you don’t care enough to stop him, and I’m starting to wonder who or what you want. Me? Or him.”

  With his loaded plate, he stalked off to talk to some of his teammates.

  I wanted to scream at him that trying to stop Dash from doing anything was a one-way trip to insanity, but that wasn’t entirely correct, and there was little point.

  I spent most of the night sitting on the outer edge of the room, wondering what to do. Wondering about all the ways I should’ve done so many things differently.

  Willa and Daphne pressed me for information about Dash, but I just shook my head. They tried to coax me into dancing with them, but I wasn’t interested. My eyes kept skating over the dance floor, but whether I was looking for Dash or looking for Byron, I wasn’t sure. Dash was nowhere to be seen, and Byron was busy stealing shots out of a flask he’d tucked inside his jacket pocket while stomping on balloons with his friends and talking to some of the cheerleaders.

  It was far from over when everyone was kicked out and told to head home. I rode with Daphne, Willa, Byron, and some of his teammates to a party two streets away from school at an old warehouse someone’s parents had rented.

  Only, we didn’t make it inside.

  After everyone else got out, Byron shut the door, then told the driver to circle the block until he said otherwise.

  “What’s going on?”

  He poured me a glass of champagne, and I took it, taking a greedy sip as he scooted over to sit next to me. “I was being a dick earlier. I think we should talk.”

  My brows furrowed, and I lowered my glass to my lap.

  Byron’s eyes swam with remorse, but his next words had me deflating. “Kayla really screwed me; you know that.” He puffed out a laugh. “Everyone knows that. And then there’s the shit with my mom and dad.” He took a long sip of champagne, his throat rippling as he swallowed, then swiped his hand over his hair. “I guess I’m just afraid of being fucked over again.”

  Unsure of what to say, I drank a little more, then set my glass down. My fingers curled, and I met his eyes, confusion enfolding me like a tsunami when I tried to think of what to say or do. “I get that.”

  I picked the glass back up, draining it. Slumping back against the seat, I exhaled slowly, my limbs and heart heavy. Where was Dash? I pictured him waiting for me at the party, if he was even going. Maybe he and his friends went to the skate park to drink and get high.

  “Byron,” I said when I looked up and found his eyes on me. My breath hitched as he took my empty glass and set it with his on the small table before sliding close.

  “Maybe we can talk later.” His hand rose, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “Maybe I just need to feel that you want this too.” Then he was kissing me, his body leaning into mine and forcing it backward over the seat. I could hardly feel the leather beneath my skin as he tugged my dress up to my hips with one hand and used the other to tug the straps down. It wouldn’t budge, and being old, the strap snapped as his tongue plundered my mouth.

  “It’s about fucking time, Peggy Newland. Open those pretty thighs for me,” he rasped into my mouth.

  His fingers found my panties, and I shut my eyes as cracks formed like fissures in my chest. I waited for the heat, for the electricity I’d felt with Dash, or even the flutters I’d encountered with Byron.

  They never came. Perhaps that was for the best. You can’t get burned if you don’t ignite. Byron was good. Byron was safe. Byron wouldn’t destroy years of friendship.

  It was nothing like it should’ve been. Nothing like I’d dreamed it’d be. Fear and despair warred to keep me chained beneath him as his fingers met my skin. Memories of Dash’s being there infiltrated, and all my fake reassurances folded like wet cards. I gasped, trying to pull away from his mouth. He rose over me, and I blinked, tingles clouding my bloodstream from the few drinks I’d had. Before I could talk, my panties were gone, and his fingers were between my legs.

  For long moments, I became lost, a sheet of thawing ice as pleasure ignited. My eyes slammed closed, and my body turned to mush as he kissed and gently explored.

  “God, you feel so good. Are you going to come?”

  I could hardly swallow let alone answer as he tried to insert a finger and the pain, accompanied by the sound of his voice, sent me careening back into reality. His tongue plunged deep into my mouth as he removed his finger and rubbed me with it. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  I thought I knew what feeling sick meant until that moment. Until I realized what was happening and what was going to happen.

  I tried to tear my mouth from his. I tried to shut my legs and move my hand between us to pull his away. When that failed to get his attention, I sank my teeth into his lip, hard.

  “Fuck,” Byron barked, and the coppery taste of blood filled my taste buds. I spat it out, narrowly avoiding his face.

  He rolled off me to the floor. “Shit, Peggy. What the fuck?”

  “Sorry, but I can’t,” I said, guilt stabbing at my eyes.

  He hissed between clenched teeth, dabbing a finger at his lip. “You’re a savage.” I banged on the window, wanting out of the car. “You said you liked me.”

  I laughed even as tears started falling down my cheeks. “I do, but I can’t do this right now. I’m too …” I sniffed, words evading me. “Confused.”

  His eyes widened, and he scrambled over the floor to the seat. “Confused? Don’t just try to bail, talk to me.”

  I sucked my lip, glancing down at his lap to where his pants were tented, but then forced my eyes away. “I don’t know how to explain it. Or if I should.” I tried to smile at him. “We’ve both been drinking, so maybe it should wait.”

  “You were enjoying it, though,” he said, a tad too vehemently for my liking. “Where did I go wrong?”

  Regret, I’d learned, was something that didn’t arrive slowly. It barreled in with the force of a thousand sharp knives to the gut and shredded everything inside.

  Byron was my boyfriend, and I liked him. So why did I suddenly feel as though I could hurl at any moment? I didn’t know much when it came to being in a relationship, but I knew enough to know I shouldn’t feel like this. Like maybe
I’d been wrong. Maybe I was in the wrong place with the wrong person.

  Withholding a cringe, I shook my head and ignored the hand that tried to reach for me. “Just get the driver to pull over, please.”

  Something banged on the windshield, and the limo came to a screeching stop. The door opened, and Willa gestured for me to climb out. Without looking at Byron, I hurried out to find Daphne putting her shoe back on.

  “Did you throw that at my car?” I heard the driver ask.

  I righted my dress, then tried to fix my hair as I wobbled a little on my feet. I wasn’t even wearing panties.

  “You wouldn’t stop when I waved at you, so yeah, I did. And your fucking windshield wiper scratched it. They cost more than your weekly wage, asshole.”

  The driver backed up, sensing from Daphne’s glare that she was going to play nasty if he tried to argue with her. He climbed back inside.

  “Peggy, please. Just wait a damn minute,” Byron said, climbing out of the limo.

  “What did he do?” Willa said, helping me stay steady as the blunt edge of the night’s events threatened to send me sitting on the hard ground.

  “Nothing. I’m going to call a cab and head home.”

  “Peggy!” Byron tossed his arms out, moving toward me when a group of guys started heading our way.

  “Yo, Woods! Sweet ride.” I recognized one of them from math. “Think you can give us a lift? We’ve got some shit to pick up.”

  Byron looked over at me, and I smiled, hoping it wasn’t a grimace, then turned my back to fish my phone from my bra.

  “Your dress.” Willa gasped. “Did he try to …?”

  “No. It’s fine. I just want to go home,” I said, giving in to temptation and slumping down onto the concrete as the limo pulled away.

  They sat with me, and I cried as I explained what happened while we waited for a cab.

  Dash

  I’d waited outside the gym, drinking with the guys in the far end of the football field, as the rest of the school acted like a bunch of dingbats, all trussed up like peacocks as they fawned over who looked best and whose shit didn’t stink.

  Then we hightailed it to where the real fun would begin at the after party.

  But they never showed.

  Not Peggy, and not Byron, hell, even Daphne and Willa were only there for a few minutes. All weekend, I’d tried not to let what that could mean send me careening over the edge I’d been balancing on for weeks. But fuck if it wasn’t becoming harder and harder to keep pinwheeling my arms around with the constant state of whiplash that kept slamming into me.

  “No friends to be a teenage dirtbag with this weekend?” Dad asked as he flicked through the Sunday paper.

  I removed my glasses and set my book down, pinching the bridge of my nose as Mom flitted around the dining room, pretending to reorganize things and look busy.

  “Go pour a martini, Mom. You’re making me jittery just looking at you.”

  “So don’t look at me and mind your tongue.”

  “Dashiell,” Dad said in a tone that conveyed he didn’t want to reprimand me, but he was about to anyway. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

  I pushed away my half-finished plate of scrambled eggs. “She tell you about the fight she had with Peony?”

  Dad looked over at Mom, lowering his glasses on his nose to peer up at her. “Fight?”

  She dropped the frame she’d been holding, and it hit the cabinet with a clatter. “It was a minor squabble.”

  “Is that what you call telling someone she’s a classless whore?”

  Dad removed his glasses, tilting his head. “Come again?”

  “I did not call her that. I called her a classless idiot.”

  I smothered my laughter behind my hand. Dad blinked at her.

  She swiped a wayward strand of hair from her face. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that.”

  “What else did you say?”

  It was one of those rare times in my life when I saw my mom’s cheeks color with something other than makeup. Feeling. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “She said she was a hog and selfish.” I drained my orange juice. “Among other things.”

  Dad’s mouth gaped open. “Really?”

  Mom growled, stalking over to me. “For once in your life, could you at least pretend to love me?”

  “Pretending takes effort.”

  Now it was Dad who growled, and I pushed my chair back. “Okay, I’m out.”

  Book and glasses in hand, I made my way to my room, but what I heard trailing me had me almost missing a step and then stopping.

  “Come here.”

  “Mikael, I don’t need your reprimanding and reminders right now.”

  Dad said it again in a tone that brooked no room for argument. “Come here.” I could almost picture her dramatic sigh before she did as he’d asked. “What happened?” he asked, voice soft.

  Then came the tears. “Oh, it was just horrible.”

  I shook my head, then escaped to my room.

  Kicking my door shut, I dropped my book on the nightstand and shoved my glasses back on as I flicked on the TV and waited for the game to load. As much as I didn’t want to call her to find out why she never came to find me—and whether that meant what I feared it did—it was killing me not to know for sure.

  But I think I’d rather die slowly than be put out of my misery via the sound of her voice.

  She wasn’t online, and after playing a few games with Jackson, I tossed my glasses and controller on the bed and decided to distract myself with happier thoughts. If only to keep from texting her until my fingers bled.

  Thoughts of when she’d been in here, in this very room, rushed in. Her legs spread between my own, opening like a blooming flower for my fingers to explore her soft depths.

  My hand tunneled beneath my plaid pajama pants, wrapping around myself. My eyes shut, my head falling back as I remembered how she’d looked, all innocent, curious eyes and lust-stained cheeks, as she’d swiped her tongue beneath my shaft.

  Combined with the sound of her panting breaths, the mewls of surprised pleasure I’d pulled from her, and the way she’d soaked my hand, I came, frantically reaching for the tissue box by the bed to catch everything she’d caused to erupt.

  After tossing them into the trash and rolling over to stare at a picture of us tacked to the wall by my bed, I wished every other feeling she evoked could’ve been expended in the same way.

  Torture.

  The wondering, the hoping, the freefalling on my own—it was nothing but torture.

  The crowd parted in whispers and laughter. All the usual bullshit for the Monday morning soundtrack.

  My eyes looked for Peggy, but she wasn’t at her locker and neither was Byron. I’d gotten here just in time for the bell, so I continued to my own, unlocking it and changing out my books before dragging my feet to class.

  I whipped out my phone as the teacher chatted with another teacher in the doorway, and for the first time since Friday, I logged into Facebook.

  I wasn’t a big fan of it, but just like most people who weren’t, I still used it when I could be fucked and had nothing better to do. Thumb scrolling, I felt the wind get knocked out of me when I saw someone had tagged Peggy in a passive-aggressive post about good girls going bad.

  She hadn’t responded to it. Why didn’t she untag herself? I stared at it until a hand thumped on the desk, and Annika tipped back on her chair, smiling like she’d eaten rainbows and unicorns for breakfast.

  “What?” I snapped when she didn’t say anything.

  “Just trying to figure out if you know what our very own Peggy Sue got up to with a certain someone in a limo Friday night?”

  My heart disintegrated, falling like ash into my stomach.

  Annika pouted. “Guess not.” She lowered her voice to a whisper when the teacher backed into the room. “Let me be the bearer of such joyful news then. She fooled around with Byron. I hear he’s got expert fingers, an
d Peggy has terrible taste in panties.”

  She turned around when I did nothing but stare at her, dumbfounded and drifting away.

  The teacher called my name twice before I finally jerked my hand up. As soon as the bell sounded, I stormed out of there.

  Being out in the hall surrounded by the gossiping student body wasn’t much better. The walls started to melt, lockers and doors looming closer with each step I took to the front entrance.

  My heart was sinking with every lurching step, my hands trembling as I wiped drops of sweat from my hairline, shoving past a group of jocks.

  “Hey, watch it, Thane.”

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  Hennessy’s laughter bit at my skin. “You mad your little girlfriend got it good last Friday? Don’t be. She’s primed and ready for you now.”

  The word primed did it.

  I threw myself at him, pinning my arm against his bulky, roided neck. “You want to die?”

  He sputtered, face growing a dull shade of red as he struggled to breathe. “Chill out. I was just m-messing with you.”

  Hands tugged at my shirt, and I felt it tear as Lars and Raven pulled me back.

  Hennessy shook out his shoulders, grinning even as he coughed. As if he hadn’t almost had his ass handed to him.

  “Outside, man. Come on.” Lars jerked me toward the doors as students started heading to class.

  I pulled away, my hands sinking into my hair as soon as we stepped into the crisp air. Walking over to the steps, I bent over. “Fuck.” The word dragged out of me on a hoarse groan.

  It felt like my heart was stuck in a vise, squeezing and squeezing even though nothing was left. I’d been wrung dry, drained empty, and I couldn’t fucking breathe without feeling it with every rattling inhale.

  “Want a joint? I’ve got some tucked away in my car,” Rave offered.

  “Dude, he doesn’t need weed,” Jackson’s voice reached through the fog.

  “Looks like he needs something.”

  I groaned again and straightened. Fuck this.

  Fuck this and fuck them.

  Maybe it wasn’t even true. If it weren’t for all the practice we’d done, I’d most definitely not believe that shit. But that was what she’d wanted from me. It was the only thing she’d wanted from me.