Kiss and Break Up - Ella Fields Page 0,12
But hey, your tits are kind of nice.”
I got up and stomped out of the room to put on the bra that had been hanging over my desk chair.
When I returned, Dash was studying me, running a finger over his brow with his other arm tucked behind his head. “So I’m done with this weird-ass mopey behavior.”
“I’m not being mopey,” I said, righting my shirt. “I’m mortified. There’s a difference.”
And in just over a week’s time, we’d be back at school, where I’d be forced to live this embarrassment down. To be honest, I wished it’d hurry up so we could get it over with.
“Come on. You’ve been embarrassed plenty of times before. Remember that time in seventh grade gym?”
It’d replayed vividly in my head for months afterward whenever I’d gotten my period. “This isn’t the same as getting your first period and having your best friend shout, Dear God, who left the beetroot on the fucking chair?”
He spun his hand. “You’re welcome.”
“Beetroot? In the gym? Beetroot is purple.”
“Like they even noticed. They were too busy laughing.”
I groaned. “Yeah, at me.”
“For thinking you’d sat in beetroot, not bled all over your gym shorts.”
“Ugh, be quiet.”
He mimicked me, then laughed when I tossed a sneaker at his head. It missed and bounced off the wall. “You’re a psycho, Freckles.” He patted the bed. “Come, tell me all your girl-tastic problems. Let’s get this shit aired so we can go back to being the gun-slinging duo everyone loves to fear.”
I raised a brow. “Girl-tastic?”
“You are a girl, last I saw.” He waggled those thick brows. “And felt.”
My eyes went wide. “Ew.”
“Is the thought of me seeing you naked really so bad?”
“It ranks high on the bad scale, for sure.” Though, thankfully, it’d been some time since that’d accidentally happened.
He mock gasped. “I’m deeply offended.”
“Pegs, have you taken my push-up bra?” Mom called, halting in the doorway with her fluffy purple dressing gown on. “Oh, hey Dash. How’s your mom?”
“Still a superficial bitch, thanks for asking.”
I could feel my cheeks tinge as Mom looked at me, waiting.
Dash snorted.
“Uh, yeah. I wore it last weekend to the party.” I started digging through my hamper, which was only half full due to hanging at home since the sneeze that’d dampened my spirits and ruined a chance at, I don’t know, something.
“It’s dirty?” Mom made a whining sound. “Never mind. I’ll buy another one with my next paycheck.” She stabbed a finger at me when I straightened, her lace yellow bra dangling from my finger. “Keep it. But don’t touch this new one.”
Then she was gone, the pipes groaning as she shut the bathroom door and turned on the shower.
“That would drive me insane.”
“What, sharing a bra with your mom?”
He pursed his lips. “That too. But I was referring to the old pipes.”
“Used to it,” I said, dropping the bra and dumping myself on the bed.
“This party, the kiss that almost happened, it’s really gotten to you, huh?”
His tone wasn’t mocking, and for that reason alone, I nodded, staring at the yellow paint on my toenails. “Yeah.”
“But why?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.
“It’s just …”
“Speak, Freckles.”
I swallowed down my pride. He’d seen me far worse and had heard far worse than what I was about to admit. “I feel so inexperienced. I’ll be eighteen next month, and I don’t care that I’m still a virgin. But I thought …” My cheeks billowed with a loud exhale.
He prodded. “You thought?”
My shoulders drooped. “That I would’ve had some other, um, well, encounters by now.”
“What, like covering the other bases?”
I nodded, unable to look at him. “I came so close,” I whispered. “So close to finally feeling like I could have what everyone else seems to have, or is doing, and then—”
“You sneezed your boogers all over him.” I slapped his thigh, and he groaned through a burst of laughter. “Just messing with you. Fuck.”
“For once in your life, can you not be a dick and be serious with me for a moment?” I was as shocked as he was at the half-shouted words and tried to calm my erratic breathing. “Sorry, I—”
“You’re not sorry, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He sat up, scooting close until the scent of his aftershave reached me, calming some of my frayed emotions. “You’re worried, but you shouldn’t be.”
“Why?” I said, noticing his lashes were really kind of long.
“Because most guys aren’t going to care how inexperienced you are. Especially not the right one.” He coughed, and I watched his lips roll together.
I