Kiss and Break Up - Ella Fields Page 0,13

sniffed, sighing.

“But you know, if you really want to boost your confidence, you can always practice.”

“Don’t you dare bring up the Nick Jonas poster.”

He raised his hands. “Didn’t even have to.”

I went to get up because I needed some chocolate stat, but he caught my wrist and tugged me back down. “You should practice with someone.”

My brows shot high. “What, kissing?” His lip slid between his teeth as he nodded. I scoffed. “Right, and with who? The one chance I had ran away from me.”

“With me.”

“What?” The buzzing outside my window ceased, and the shower shut off, drenching the world in silence. I searched his deep blue gaze. “You’re telling me I should make out with you?”

“Who better?” He spread his hands. “I won’t judge, and even if I do, it stays with us. It’s safe, and we both know I’ll be a good teacher.”

I couldn’t contain my shock any longer, and so I got up, laughing as a cloud of confusion followed me out of my room. “Very funny.”

Dash

Very funny.

I didn’t think so.

Those words, the nonchalant way she’d let them roll off her tongue with her wind-chime laughter, had ripped through me like an unseen serrated knife.

“Back up,” Lars said. “No, no, no. You fuckhead.” He tossed his controller, falling back against the couch as Raven snickered, leveling up.

Church, my black Scottish Fold, had somehow crept inside the pool house and was rubbing up against my ankles. “Who let Church in?”

Lars lit a blunt, exhaling a plume of smoke while eyeing my cat. “Fuck if I know.”

“Who cares?” Raven, or Rave, as we called him, said.

“I fucking care.” I stabbed out my cigarette, waving the smoke away from Church’s direction, then bent forward to pick him up and set him beside me on the recliner. “No smoking around the cat. His lungs aren’t as heavy duty as ours.”

“Aw, you big fucking sweetheart.” Lars ashed into an empty bowl beside him.

“Pussy-whipped.” Rave laughed, reaching for his drink while he had a lull.

I threw my boot at him, and it hit the can in his hand. Beer sprayed over his face and rained down the leather chair, leaving a puddle on the floor beside the dented can.

“Seriously?” Rave raised a brow, his empty hand still poised at his mouth.

I didn’t bother responding, satisfied when I saw someone shoot his ass dead on the screen.

“Mother of fuck.” He scrambled for the controller.

Lars chuckled, staring off into space.

Very funny.

Two words had never bothered me so damn much. She’d rejected me. Her best friend. The only guy she was comfortable around enough to be wholly herself.

And she’d fucking rejected me.

Laughed at me.

Then walked away from me.

I was so pissed, so unexpectedly thrown by her response and the weird stabbing sensation that cut at the insides of my chest, that I’d climbed out her bedroom window and gone home before she even came back to her room.

Then I’d texted Ruthie Brooks, which was a bad fucking idea. The chick was apparently on the rebound something fierce, but I needed my cock in someone’s mouth. I needed to numb the waves of rejection that wouldn’t quit crashing into me.

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