Kiss and Break Up (Magnolia Cove, #1)(13)

And most of all, I needed to remember who I damn well was.

Which was reinforced when Ruthie had called and told me to meet her at her place after eleven when her parents had passed out. I came home feeling better. Offing a load always makes one feel better, but I still wasn’t feeling like myself.

And I still didn’t want to talk to Peggy.

I was mad, and I knew I was acting like some petulant chick, but come on. If you can’t kiss your best friend with no strings attached, who else can you kiss? Besides, I didn’t think I imagined the way her long brown lashes dipped over the faint freckles beneath her eyes, eyes that were curious, staring at my fucking mouth.

She’d considered it, I knew that much. I mean, what hot-blooded female wouldn’t? But then she’d laughed it off like I was crazy.

And yeah, maybe I was. Maybe we’d have kissed, made out, fondled a little, and I’d have to fight back the memories of seeing her wet her pants in kindergarten and the farting competitions we’d had in the third grade. Maybe my stomach would have roiled, or maybe I’d be unable to quit laughing, to block out who was touching her lips to mine.

But god damn it, I guess we’d never know.

“What time are we meeting Cad at the skate park?”

“He’s working until four,” Lars told Raven.

I pulled my phone out, checking the time, and saw I had a message.

Huh. I wasn’t high, at least, not yet. Later, maybe. I wasn’t like Lars. The amount of times I’d almost broken my damn neck riding my bike due to smoking some weed was fucking embarrassing.



Freckles: Hey, so I kind of need you.



The message was sent a half hour ago, and something stirred in my stomach.

Church rolled over, nuzzling his head into my thigh. I stroked his belly, taking my sweet-ass time to type three simple letters.



Me: Why



Her response came instantly.



Freckles: Byron asked me out. Like, on a real date.



My hands tensed as I read her message again and again.



Me: When?



Freckles: DM’d me on Insta.



Fucking fuck. Of course, he did. He probably saw the latest photo she’d uploaded, one of her long ass legs and freshly painted mint green toenails, and thought to hell with sneezing on someone’s face, I need me some of that.

All the scumbags at school knew to stay away from her. It rarely even needed to be said.

I’d have to kill him.

All in good time.

“Are you even here? Or are you sexting Lizzie again?”

Ignoring Rave, I texted back.



Me: What do you need me for then?



“Earth to fucking Dash? Are we getting more beer before we hit the skate park or not?”

It took her a solid minute, bubbles dancing and disappearing, but she finally found the courage.



Freckles: I need to practice.



A twitch shook my lips, and that stabbing feeling in my chest dissipated. I pocketed my phone, then grabbed Church to take him back to the house.

“You fucks work it out. I’ve got plans.”

They didn’t bother asking where I was going, seeing as I’d never bother telling.





Peggy



Nerves ignited the second I’d sent that message, catching fire when I realized he wasn’t going to respond.

With a sour stomach, I switched back to Instagram, rereading Byron’s message for the eighth time since he’d sent it almost an hour ago.



Hey! You took off the other night? I don’t have your number, so I thought I’d find you here. I’m sorry for ditching you. Wade almost got into a fight, and then I got so wasted, I passed out by the pool.

Let me make it up to you with a real date? How’s this Friday sound?



And my response?

I was still dying over it, wishing I’d had some chill and waited.



Of course! Totally fine. What time?



Totally fine? Ugh, what was I? Some kind of pushover? It was not totally fine. Far from it. The embarrassment that’d been tearing at everything I did this past week, further hurling the feelings of inadequacy I’d always struggled with at Magnolia Cove Prep, made it so far from fine, it was sometimes hard to breathe.

I’d never had a problem with feeling as though I didn’t belong. I’d found my people, few as they were, and I didn’t need anything more than that.

Mom once told me that trying to fit into someplace you didn’t belong was like wearing a pair of jeans two sizes too small. It’d slowly strangle and squeeze every last drop of life from you. Eventually, you’d find yourself stuck, all alone with nothing but the unrecognizable scraps of who you once were.

I didn’t need cheap friendships that would only fall apart the second we left this town and went our separate ways. But what I wanted, what tormented my insecurities, was to know what it was like to fall for someone. No matter how much that fall hurt on the way down, I was sick and tired of wondering if I was doomed to finish high school without having been on one date. Without experiencing the butterflies, the late-night phone calls, and the stolen kisses in the school halls.

Because I hadn’t. The last time I thought I was getting close to scoring a boyfriend, it was when Simon Rogers had asked me out in biology in the eighth grade. He wasn’t the best-looking guy, but he was cute with his wire-rimmed glasses, and he smelled nice. Like the lemon-scented spray Dad’s cleaner used. He said he’d have his mom pick me up at seven and take us to the movies.